


Love is a [Virus]/Cure

by DLanaDHZ



Series: Love is a Virus/Love is a Cure [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alive Cole Anderson, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Case Fic, Fuck Kamski but I loved writing him, Hurt Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Recovering Alcoholic, Virus, mentions of past emotional abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:00:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 62,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DLanaDHZ/pseuds/DLanaDHZ
Summary: Hank has no problem with androids. Androids didn’t take his son – his ex-lover did that. Androids didn’t ruin his reputation – Hank did that. In fact, Hank doesn't care one way or the other about androids, but when an epidemic begins spreading through the cybernetic masses, Hank is thrust into the lives of people he’d previously given very little thought to. Hank is put on the case to discover the source of the virus, but as much as he wants to help, he has no leads. That is, until an attractive man greets him at the bar and offers him a break in the cold case. The odd thing is, Hank feels like he’s met the guy before, but he’d never forget a face as handsome as that.Hank's POV.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Series: Love is a Virus/Love is a Cure [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1667416
Comments: 66
Kudos: 117





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has two POVs - Hank's and Connor's. Links will be at the bottom of each chapter so you can swap between the two at will. Note: If you read too fast, you may have to reload the page to see the link because I have to upload both before I can edit the links in.
> 
> I understand a fic about a virus might not be appealing right now, but I swear I started writing this like a year ago and I only recently completed it and just desperately wanted to post it so I could move on to other projects. Hope you enjoy it - there's a good ending!
> 
> Thanks to JessicaMDawn, BlueSirenRose, and vixenthereindeer for being betas.

The sunrise, ever the fighter, managed to peek through the heavy Detroit air and turn the general fog of the morning into a movie-worthy pink haze. Then orange and yellow bled out and took over. By the time blue began to take over the sky, Hank had finished his whole whiskey bottle. In two hours, he was expected at the police station for work, but he would probably push it for four hours instead. Fuck, Fowler probably didn’t expect him for five at this point.

Hank used to drink to forget, but now he just drank. When he wasn’t on a case, he drank. When he wasn’t needed in general, he drank. Sitting on the park bench, watching the sun rise, he wasn’t thinking about any of the reasons he’d started drinking or any of the downer thoughts that used to keep him up at night. He’d just come out to watch the fog over the river and drink.

His bottle rolled off onto the concrete and he let it. God, he hoped work would be boring. He wasn’t nearly drunk enough, and if they had no new casework, he could make the excuse to go to Jimmy’s after work.

A young couple walked by him, paying him no mind. In his rough state, he probably looked like a hobo. It had been weeks since Hank had tried to shave properly, and he hadn’t tamed his hair after rolling out of bed, and he was covered in a heavy coat despite the warm autumn air. Whatever. Hank preferred to be invisible anyway.

The couple was chatting quietly, happily. One young woman turned to the other and said something profound. Hank could tell by the way the second one’s hands jumped up to cover a gasp. The first young woman held up a dark skinned hand, like asking for a high five but too low. Slowly, the second woman placed her hand palm to palm against it. A gentle glow emitted from their touching skin, then the backs of their hands lit up too. The light carved a design into the skin there before dissipating.

The two women pulled apart and stared down at their new cosmically given tattoos. One of them shrieked with delight and then they were embracing and kissing. Hank looked away, grumbling.

He hadn’t expected to see a couple match up this morning. It left his stomach rolling more than the booze. Still, he couldn’t help but stare down at his own hand, blank skin across the whole thing. Well, there were wrinkles and some hairs. It was an old man’s hand. An old man who hadn’t met his soul mate. The universe was a sick fuckin’ place sometimes.

Everyone had a soul mate. Hank knew this. He’d never questioned it. People always met their soul mate too. It was a given. No wiggle room. Hank knew that too. He’d done a lot of internet searches as he got older and had yet to match with anyone. But it was true. Every single person in the world would meet their soul mate. There was no recording of a person dying without that stupid mark on their hand.

Hank knew he had a soul mate, and not just because the internet assured him of it. He knew because… he knew his soul mate. Not in person, obviously, but in the way that every person knew their soul mate before meeting them. From the day Hank turned thirteen, he’d had feelings about… stuff.

Hank had always been into heavy metal music, but at thirteen he started noticing jazz albums. He didn’t hate jazz, in fact it was in his top four genres, but he didn’t exactly seek it out either. That didn’t stop him from noticing jazz concert posters, CD sections at the store, or sax players on the street. It was like when you bought a new car and suddenly you saw how many other people in the city owned that car too.

Hank liked dogs and cats equally, in so much as he liked them so long as they stayed out of his house. His parents had been allergic to the dander, and though Hank was not allergic, he figured life was easier if you didn’t have to clean up after a pet or remember to feed it or groom it. Even so, he found himself pausing to look at stray dogs on the street, walking the long way home to pass the dog park, and even peeking in the pet store window at the little puppies from time to time. If asked, Hank would honestly answer that he had no preference for dogs and that he really didn’t want one.

But his soul mate did. His soul mate liked jazz music and all types of dogs. His soul mate liked the color blue the most, though which shade had shifted back and forth over the years. For some reason, his soul mate seemed to like the air just before and after it rained, but not during.

His soul mate liked the sunrise.

Hank shook himself as he stood up. The women had long since walked on. It didn’t matter what his soul mate liked, because Hank hadn’t found them. What did it matter if Hank knew their favorite color or weather if they weren’t together?

Whatever.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out as he rubbed his tired eyes. Damn. It was work, and exactly on schedule too.

“Time to go be an embarrassment,” Hank grunted to no one and began trudging toward the parking lot and his car.

In the morning light, he noticed a figure slumped at the base of a tree that he hadn’t been able to see in the dark. It was an android, maybe. The LED seemed to be on its temple but there was something wrong with it, with the whole body. As Hank drew closer, he noticed that the sythnskin had gone gray. The android looked to be made of ash. The eyes were closed, the LED off, and there was no sign of breathing. The android was dead.

In his inebriated state, Hank couldn’t pull enough sympathy out for the android to look any closer. Instead, he just kept walking and didn’t wonder what could cause an android to calcify.

\--- --- ---

Captain Jeffrey Fowler was already mid-debrief when Hank sauntered into the meeting room. A couple eyes shifted to look at him, but most people already knew who it was. Hank had been late enough times to stop being a spectacle. Fowler only rolled his eyes at Hank before continuing as though nothing had happened.

Hank slumped into a seat in the back and tried to fix his hair. He’d attempted to brush it into submission in the car, but that only seemed to make it worse. Beside him, an android officer – her name was Ashby, if Hank had his head on straight – smiled and offered him a tin of mints. That was a perk to androids – they never commented about your smell, but they were always willing to help with it. Hank nodded his thanks and took three mints at once. Officer Ashby didn’t mind, simply shut the case and returned it to her pocket. Androids didn’t even need mints, so… Well, that was nice of her.

“More and more androids are ending up like this, and the mayor is up my ass about it. That means I’m gonna be up _your_ asses about it. Effective immediately, we’re creating a task force to find the source of the virus.” He glanced down at his podium and notes. “Alright, on the force we’ve got Detective Chen, Officer Ashby, and Detective Reed.”

“Hey!” Reed cried out indignantly. He had his feet up on the table like some kind of TV cop.

Fowler ignored him. “And heading up the force will be…” Fowler took a breath and then stared the room down like he dared anyone to counter him. “Lieutenant Anderson.”

“What?” Hank grunted. Hell he hadn’t even heard the report!

“What the fuck, Fowler?!” Reed exclaimed, swinging his feet back onto the floor and standing abruptly.

“You got a problem, Reed, you can take it to my office. The rest of you – dismissed!” Fowler gathered his notes and then barked, “Anderson, once I’m done ringing Reed out, I want you in my office immediately!”

“Captain,” Hank replied lazily.

The room emptied, and Reed stormed after Fowler, already ranting before they got behind the thick glass of Fowler’s office. Still in his seat, Hank sighed. What the fuck was Fowler thinking? Hank hadn’t led a task force in ten years.

Officer Ashby stood up, startling Hank with the knowledge that she hadn’t left with everyone else. She smiled gently down at him. “It will be an honor to work with you, Lieutenant. I hope I can be a helpful addition to the investigation.”

“Yeah. Same.” Hank wanted to be pissy and cross, but he couldn’t find any anger when addressing Officer Ashby. Perhaps because she’d always been so sweet, he couldn’t find it in him to be mean to her.

She left then, and Hank took a minute to look at the papers left behind by almost every officer. The footnotes of their meeting were written there. Androids were dying of a strange virus. It attacked different biocomponents, working slowly at first, and then started shutting down major components. Their chassis and synthskin turned gray as the virus spread. No known origin point or target. Effected androids covered all manner of careers and lifestyles. No known antivirus. It spread unnoticed because it took four days for symptoms to begin showing.

“Well shit,” Hank let out, remembering the android he’d passed in the park.

He pushed himself up, leaving the papers behind, and left the room. Across the bullpen, Reed was exiting Fowler’s office. They locked eyes and Reed flicked him off with a sneer. Hank grimaced and sent a bird right back.

Fowler’s office was filled with the sound of bitter disappointment and annoyance. Before Hank could say a single word, Fowler was shaking his head and waving him off. “Just drop it, Hank. Please. I can’t let you off this one.”

“Oh, give me a break, Jeffrey! We both know I’m a piece of shit lieutenant these days. You should be firing me, not giving me a task force. This is a joke! And everybody knows it!” He waved his hand wildly at the bullpen, visible through the glass wall.

“Hank, I said drop it!” Jeffrey snapped back. He smacked his hand on his desk top. “I’ve just had to listen to Detective Tight-Ass complain for ten minutes about being given the assignment, and then he goes and threatens to put a word in to his dear old dad! So of course I had to let him off the force. Damn it, Hank! I can’t make a task force and then just let everyone quit it! Someone has to at least act like they give a damn about this virus or the whole department is in the shit pile! Do you understand?!”

Groaning loudly, Hank ran a hand down over his face and turned in a slow circle. God damn Reed and his god damn relatives. “Fuck,” he said aloud.

“You and me both, Hank, but this is the draw we got this time. My neck’s on the line with this one too. We just gotta bite the bullet and make it work.” Jeffrey frowned, but it lacked all of his anger from before. “Work with me on this one, Hank. I need you to get your act together.”

Hank cursed again and turned away from his boss. “Damn it, Jeffrey.”

The captain’s voice was somber when he spoke next. “I know it’s been a rough few years, Hank. Don’t get me wrong. I know. And I still update the report every month. We’ve cast the net as wide as we can. But you’ve gotta get your shit together, Hank. Even if we find Cole, you really think any judge is gonna rule in your favor right now?”

“Fuck you, Jeffrey,” Hank spat, spinning around to fix his glare directly on his target.

“You know I’m right.” Fowler was not moved by Hank’s anger. Damn. “I’ve done my best not to fill your file with endless probations and disciplinary notes, but there’s only so much I can do when you stop giving a damn. You need this win as much as the department does. When we find Cole-”

“If,” Hank corrected petulantly.

“When,” Fowler stressed, leaving no chance for further argument. “You’re gonna need all the help you can get. So work with me on this. Head the task force and solve this case. Do it for Cole.”

Hank hated admitting he’d lost the argument, but he also couldn’t find anything to contest Fowler’s points. He frowned heavily and then sneered. “Sure, whatever.” Then he turned and headed for the door, putting as much distaste into his posture and movement as possible.

“Thank you, Hank,” Jeffrey called after him, and Hank didn’t bother responding as the glass door swung shut behind him.

The captain was right. No judge would give Hank custody of a child right now, but what was he supposed to do? His current state had been a slow downward spiral of lost hope and desperation. There had been no clues about Cole, so what was he meant to focus his energy on to pull himself out of this funk? According to Fowler, this case.

“Fuck,” he muttered again, but he headed for the conference room anyway. Chen and Ashby were already inside, compiling information and making charts. Well, at least his two person team seemed somewhat competent. That was something.

God, he hoped this was easier than it sounded.

\--- --- ---

Androids had been part of society for almost three decades. The first ones came out when Hank was in his twenties. He’d always found them interesting, but he’d never managed to get one of his own. Even as everyone around him bought one, his home remained android-free. They were humanoid computers and glorified sex-toys. It was like putting Alexa into a ventriloquist dummy, and Hank just didn’t see the point. He didn’t even have an Alexa.

That’s when CyberLife came into the picture. The company sprang up almost overnight, selling a new brand of android, powdered by a new substance – thirium. Thirium, also called ‘blue blood’, was a self stabilizing data transfer system. Androids could process faster and now react as quick, or quicker, than a human. The blood also refreshed itself, just like human blood, and only needed replacing if it was lost through damage. Androids could now operate much longer without needing to charge and also needed less time to refill their batteries. CyberLife revolutionized the industry.

Then the revolution happened. Well, everyone called it a revolution, but it was a quiet one. Androids, already so human in their mannerisms and thoughts, proved they had real souls. They had soul mates, just like their human counterparts. The world was shocked and then forced to recognize the undeniable. Somehow, androids were alive.

That was just about ten years ago, and although androids had earned rights, they still suffered a lot of prejudice and hostility. This virus was just the newest in a string of violence from anti-android dickheads.

“I apologize, Lieutenant,” Ashby said four days after Hank had agreed to run this shit storm. “I have organized the victims of the virus in every way I can conceive and I see no pattern. Their length of time since activation, their jobs, their genders, their political stances – I truly see no correlation. Some frequent the same shopping marts, and all visit repair centers, of course, but they did not visit concurrently with each other’s range of infection.”

Hank ran a hand down his face and did his best not to groan. Fowler’s hope that this case would look good for the department and for Hank’s personnel file was looking to be a failure. The warrants to get the personal information of all the known victims had taken a full day to go through, and then the three of them had been number crunching for three days! They’d compiled a list of every effected android and discovered that they all lived in the Detroit area, but other than that they could find no correlation.

Detective Chen had been out doing interviews with friends and family for a shift and a half, but after each meeting she called to report that nothing sounded out of the ordinary or matched anything said by a previous family.

Ten years of living free and now this virus was gonna wipe them all out.

Why did none of this match up? Why was it all so fucking difficult?

“Not your fault, Ashby.” Hank couldn’t help actually groaning then. An email had popped up on his phone from none other than fuckin’ Reed. It better be important.

‘Virus case’ was the title. Inside it said, ‘Thought you needed to see this. It’s about your case.’ And there was an image file attached. Suspicious, Hank clicked to open the file. A meme-type image popped up of a woman with a broken vacuum cleaner. ‘Sucks that your case has stalled,’ it read. An emoji giving the middle finger glared out from the corner.

Fucking asshole. From his desk, Hank could see Reed in the break room, looking a little too smug about life. Yeah, he was real fuckin’ proud of dodging the draft – that guttersnipe.

Ashby frowned at her terminal then she glanced over Hank and tried to smile. “You’ve been at work for over twelve hours, Lieutenant. You should head home and get some rest.”

Brow drawn tight, Hank waved at Ashby. “Fuck, Ashby. You’ve been here as long as I have. Longer, actually. If anyone needs a break, it’s you.”

“I appreciate that, Lieutenant.” Ashby sounded sincere, but then she shook her head like he was being silly. “Androids don’t tire the way humans do. Please allow me to keep working. I may be able to find a link while you sleep. I’d really like to be as useful as possible to this investigation.”

Androids. Always so fuckin’ polite. With a sigh, Hank pushed himself back from his desk and stood up. He grabbed his coat but didn’t put it on. “Fine.” He pointed accusingly at Ashby. “But don’t stay too late. Even androids gotta rest sometime. Besides which, Fowler’ll kill me if I let you rack up too much overtime.”

Ashby smiled genuinely, like she may laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind, Lieutenant Anderson. Have a good night.”

“Yeah.” Hank waved half-heartedly as he walked out of the bullpen and then through security. That woman probably wasn’t gonna listen to Hank’s advice, and he’d get scolded by Fowler for letting an android work too long because it violated some kind of statute. But he’d at least told her to go home, hadn’t he? What else could he do?

Anyway it wasn’t like he was gonna take her advice either. Sleep was the furthest thing from Hank’s mind. The entire case was going tits up and they’d barely begun. It’d be one more black mark in Hank’s file, and all he could hear in his head was Fowler’s voice.

‘Even if we find Cole, you really think any judge is gonna rule in your favor right now?’

Well they sure as fuck weren’t gonna help him out now. Damn it. He needed a drink.

\--- --- ---

The amber liquid in his cup sloshed over the edge when he grabbed it from the bartender's hand. Oops. Too forceful. Oh well. He'd already paid for it. Hank downed the drink in a few quick gulps and then snapped the glass back down on the bar.

"Tough day, I see," said an unfamiliar but friendly voice.

A handsome young man slid onto the stool beside him, smooth and graceful and definitely not drunk. He was no older than thirty-five, with dark hair and pale skin, and was that a freckle? Maybe? Most of his brown hair was hidden under a beanie hat, but one tuft had escaped and hung over his forehead.

He smiled at Hank's confusion and waved down the bartender. "I'll have what he's having," he said. It sounded so rehearsed and cheesy that Hank actually snorted.

  
"Listen, kid, if you're after money, I ain't got none. If it's advice, you're equally fucked. So don't bother trying to butter me up." He waved at the bartender but didn't speak.

  
Two glasses were set down, the same drink in each. Hank immediately lifted his to his lips but the new guy didn't even flinch.

  
"Flattery can get you anywhere in life, no matter what people say," the younger man said. "I'd say I’m surprised you called me on the attempt to woo you, but then you have great instincts."

  
Woo? Hank choked a little. Did this guy say 'woo'? Was he... flirting with Hank?

  
The brunette had open, honest brown eyes and a face that looked almost too young. He wore a light jacket and a dark blue t-shirt - the favorite color of Hank's soul mate, Hank couldn't help but note - and jeans that were weathered but not torn. Jesus, he didn't have any fat on his whole damn body.

  
It had been a long time since Hank had been flirted with. He didn't exactly look the part of a good time anymore. But if someone was offering... Hank had been having a shitty week. A shitty couple of years. Maybe he should just accept the flirtation. He could take home this surprise partner and forget about all the people, all the androids he was failing. He could forget about Cole, at least for an hour or so.

  
"Oh yeah? How do you figure?" Hank asked, leaning on the counter so he could smirk at his companion.

  
"No one becomes lieutenant at thirty-five without good instincts."

  
Hank’s brow knit even before he fully heard the words. When they sank in, he glowered and leaned away.

  
"Who the fuck are you?" He snarled. He chanced a glance around the bar, gauging if the man was alone or if Hank was about to get jumped.

  
"Calm yourself, Lieutenant. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m a friend." His stupid face and voice seemed designed to be trustworthy. At that moment, they made Hank trust him even less.

  
"Like hell you are. What do you want with me?" Hank let his hand loosely touch his waist, just in front of his gun. If it made the other man nervous, he didn't show it.

  
"I have information for your investigation." He tilted his head slightly. "The virus you're hunting, the first cases originated at parking meters. The targets were android officers."

  
"How would you know that? No one knows where the first infections came from."

  
"I'm asking you to verify this officially," the younger man urged.

  
Hank's head spun as he tried to make deductions through the alcohol in his system. "Hang on, hang on. If that's true, are you trying to suggest another cop is behind the virus? Or someone in the government?" Who else could infect government owned property without someone noticing?

  
The young man's eyes were surprisingly serious. "I'm not in the habit of making assumptions, Lieutenant." Suddenly his eyes kind of… fluttered, like someone had poked him in the forehead or something. Then he was back to business. "I have to go. Please take this seriously, Lieutenant. Friends of mine depend on the success of your task force."

  
He stood from the stool, a graceful motion Hank had never managed. Before he could step away, Hank grabbed his wrist. Hank stared up at the handsome stranger, still struggling to wrap his head around the conversation.

  
"Hey. Seriously. Who the hell are you?" He asked.

  
The brunette smiled and pushed his untouched drink over in front of Hank. "Enjoy your night, Lieutenant."

  
Then he easily stepped out of Hank’s grip and strode from the bar. Hank stared after him for a moment, shocked. Then he reflexively grabbed the drink on the counter and downed it. Only afterward did he notice he'd grabbed the other guy's glass.

  
What the actual fuck.

\--- --- ---

[[Replay as Connor?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180215/chapters/55484803)

[[Continue as Connor?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180215/chapters/55704757)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No rest for the retail, as they say. I meant to get this chapter up earlier, but life got in the way. Hope everyone is doing well out there!

Hank had rolled his chair from his desk to Ashby’s. He leaned on the desk, surprised at how eager he was to hear the outcome of her compile. Unlike usual, Hank had stormed into the bullpen fifteen minutes ahead of his shift. As he’d expected, Ashby was sitting at her desk. If not for her new undershirt and a changed hairstyle, Hank would accuse her of never having left the night before.

“Hey, Ashby, I need you to check somethin’ for me,” he’d said, and she’d given her usual encouraging smile. “I mean, er, good morning.”

She laughed. “How can I help, Lieutenant?”

Ten minutes later, Hank was trying to watch her screen from across the desk, but it wasn’t helping him. Ashby was interfacing with the computer, and the information on the screen moved so fast that he had no hope of keeping up. He’d asked her to analyze the list for any androids in law enforcement, then to check if their usual window of infection matched times they would have been on duty. Since they were cops, and Hank had warrants, they could then check what work the officers had been doing on the possible days of infection. Were they meter maids like the guy at the bar suggested?

Ashby’s LED spun rapidly for a long time, but then it froze on yellow. She frowned and blinked slowly as she turned her attention to Hank.

“Lieutenant, your search parameters –,” she began then hesitated. Shaking her head, she started over. “Of the earliest known infected, over half were involved with law enforcement or knew an android who was. Timelines indeed show that they were working in the window of infection, and all were working low-level jobs involving parking or other motorist cases.”

The air left Hank’s lungs in a low whistle. “I’ll be damned,” he whispered. Somehow a random man had noticed a connection the entire DPD had missed, and CyberLife repair centers to boot. No one had noticed that connection because the virus spread so quickly.

“Lieutenant,” Ashby said, drawing Hank’s mind back from his mysterious informant. Her brow was knit with the slightest concern. “What made you think to look at the information like this?”

Good question, Detective, Hank thought. Clearing his throat, he said, “Just an idea I had last night. I thought I’d seen a bit too much about cops in the data, but I wasn’t real sure. Good work, Ashby.”

His praise did not lessen her concern like it normally would have. “But… Lieutenant Anderson… Do you think this means the culprit is also in law enforcement?”

Ah. She was concerned about the implications, just as Hank had been last night. The thought that another cop was behind the murder of so many androids was concerning at best and horrendously unthinkable at worst. Cops were meant to protect the citizens of Detroit, regardless of their species. Cops weren’t meant to be murderers.

Hank returned her frown. “Unfortunately, I think it does.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “We need to do some digging – figure out who woulda had access to the meter programming or whatever our siblings in blue were interfacing with in the days leading up to their symptoms. If it is another cop, we gotta solve this even more. It’s our duty to the people… Dontcha think?”

He raised an eyebrow at her, and that seemed to amuse her enough that the wrinkle left her otherwise perfect forehead. She nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll begin compiling possible infection sites based on our victims’ timelines now.”

Hank grunted in approval. “Now don’t go too hard, though, Ashby. We don’t need you getting sick too.” She glanced up at him, but he held his hand up to stop her reply. “I know, I know. Androids don’t get sick. Just take it easy, alright? Don’t burn out before you even start.”

Her smile was back, albeit smaller than normal. With a nod, she turned back to her computer and began interfacing once more. Her LED began to spin, so Hank pushed himself very unprofessionally back across the aisle to his own desk.

When Chen came in, her eyes went wide at seeing him more punctual than she was. Hank immediately gave her the task of seeing who had access to each possible infection site Ashby found. The list was not short, but it was work that needed to be done. The Asian woman only rolled her eyes a little bit before sitting down.

“You know,” she said, an hour into her tedious task, “It’s probably a good thing Gavin got himself removed from the task force. He’d just be complaining about all the grunt work. Plus, he’d probably slow us down on purpose.”

Eyes narrowed, Hank glanced up at her. From this angle, he could just spot her soul mark on her hand, and he hated the fact that he’d noticed it right away. “How do ya figure?”

She snorted slightly. “What rock have you been under, Lieutenant? Reed doesn’t give two shits about the wellbeing of androids. He’s probably ecstatic about the virus. He’s one of those ‘these bastards are stealing our jobs’ types, y’know?”

“Yeah. He’s always been an asshole,” Hank grumbled, returning to his own grunt work. “Eh, like you said, we’re better off without him.”

Hank glanced down at his desk, where he had a dozen stacks of papers, barely organized. A gnawing thought prodded the back of his mind until he paid attention to it – His soul mate was not a fan of clutter. Frowning more, Hank begrudgingly organized all the papers and pretended it had nothing to do with his soul mate.

\--- --- ---

The autumn air was getting crisp at night. Leaning on the wall outside Jimmy's Bar, Hank pulled his coat on tighter and let out a long breath. He'd started the night inside, but for once it wasn't to drink. For an hour he'd watched the door, sipping on soda and waiting. When his drink ran empty, he’d left the bar.  
  
The air outside was chill, but it was nothing Hank couldn't handle. He watched pedestrians amble along the sidewalk and searched every face for familiarity.  
  
A middle-aged man and his wife... girlfriend? walked by. He handed her a soda while he said, "You like Pepsi, right?"  
  
Her nose wrinkled. "Oh. I'm actually more of a tea drinker." She looked up into his eyes. "I'm sorry."  
  
They were both silent for a few steps and then they were talking over each other, awkwardly trying to leave the situation and probably the relationship. Soul mates, fucking up another relationship. Hank could understand wanting to avoid other relationships until you found your soul mate, but if you were enjoying your time with someone who wasn't your match, then why not continue to enjoy it until you met the right person?  
  
Hank had no right to talk, actually. He stared down at his blank hand and remembered the only time in his life that he'd had a long relationship. He'd tried to enjoy life once too, tried to make a life with someone outside of his soul mate. Look how that turned out.  
  
This was fucking stupid. Why was he even standing out in the cold air and waiting for some guy that wasn't going to show? It wasn't like they'd arranged to meet, or that he'd seen the guy here before, or that he had any new actual information to relay. This was an exercise in futility and idiocy.  
  
Huffing angrily, Hank shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking toward the parking lot on the side of the building.  
  
He turned the corner and- And there _he_ was. Young and handsome was walking along the side of the building, but he froze when he noticed Hank.  
  
"It's you," Hank said, surprised. What were the fucking chances of this? Zero. But here it was. Happening.  
  
"Lieutenant." The younger man nodded his head in greeting. "I hope I'm not being presumptive, but I wanted to buy you a drink. Properly this time. I felt our first interaction was too abrupt - that I was rude."  
  
"Rude?" Hank wanted to laugh but didn't. Their first interaction was abrupt, suspicious, and perhaps flirtatious, but rude? Yet here this young man was, offering to buy Hank a drink. Did he even realize he was flirting again? "You know what? That's fine. Let's get a drink. I know just the place."  
  
The brunette frowned. "A different bar?"

"Nope. I'm not drinking tonight. But I've got a good replacement in mind." He smirked and held out his hand. "Only I don't drink with strangers. Proper introductions this time. Hank Anderson."  
  
The other didn't hesitate to shake his hand. "Connor Arkay."

"Alright then. Now that we've got that handled, let's get going. I’m starving." Hank released Connor’s hand and then led the way to his car. Nerves tingled in his empty stomach. This was the closest he'd had to a date in ten years. And it wasn't even a date. Jesus, he needed to calm the fuck down.  
  
Connor slid into the passenger seat without hesitation. Nerves clearly weren't bothering him. Hank just had to take a leaf out of that book and everything would go smoothly.

….

Chicken Feed was a food truck of less than perfect qualities. Sure the food license had expired two years ago, and sure they hadn’t passed their sanitation inspection, but they made great food. Perhaps in hindsight, Hank would realize it was a terrible first date spot for someone as obviously neat as Connor, but in the moment Hank was trying to adamantly convince himself to stop. thinking. of. this. as. a. date. And Chicken Feed had been his go-to comfort food ever since the disappearance of Cole and Melissa.

Hank ordered his usual: a burger and fries with a pineapple soda. It was greasy and sloppy and heavenly, alright? Gary, the owner, handed the food over, and Connor reached forward to pay.

Hank frowned. “You not eating?” He hadn’t meant to mooch off the kid. He’d thought they’d be eating together.

“You shouldn’t be eating it either,” Connor replied, his voice calm. His expression was so carefully neutral, so much more stoic than Hank had yet seen, that Hank could tell he was silently judging the establishment. Connor took his change and stiffly followed Hank to a standing table. “Do you frequently eat at this establishment?”

Hank shrugged lazily. “Probably more often than I should. Why do you ask?” He took a slow sip of his soda.

Connor frowned, and it was too damn cute. It really wasn’t fair. “I don’t wish to alarm you, Lieutenant, but their food license is expired and their sanitation levels are not up to standards. You could get ill from eating that, and not simply due to that burger’s atrocious nutrition information.”

The older man laughed out loud, almost spitting some of his drink. He’d hit the nail on the fuckin’ head. Connor was so wary of the food that he couldn’t even pretend not to be. There was almost a shudder about him as he watched Hank lifting the burger, though Hank didn’t bite into it.

“Anyone ever tell you that you sound like a computer sometimes?” Hank wiped his mouth with a napkin, and then he tilted his head back toward the truck. “Listen, the guys here aren’t half bad. They don’t judge my badge, so I don’t judge them either. It’s not even my department to bust them for operating without a valid license. Besides which, they make the best damn burger this side of the river.”

Defying expectation, Connor actually snorted and glanced back at the food window, where Pedro was now chatting with Gary. Pedro was probably trying to convince Gary to gamble, and sometimes he could convince Hank as well, but not tonight.

Connor slowly drew his eyes back to the table. “I’ll have to take your word on that, Lieutenant.”

Hank shook his head roughly and waved a hand. “Nuh uh. No you don’t. Here.” He offered the offending food item to Connor. “I haven’t even had a bite. Go on and try some. I promise I don’t care, even if you’re sick. But you gotta try this before you knock it.”

No way was he gonna let Connor diss the greasiest, tastiest burger in Detroit without at least trying it. Sure it was rapidly filling Hank’s arteries and probably doing a number to his heart, but it was so damn good. Actually, on second thought, maybe he shouldn’t be trying to get someone as clean as Connor to ruin his health like this. Oh well, he’d already offered, and he wasn’t gonna back down now.

Connor blinked stupidly at the oozing grease and cheese for a long, not-quite-awkward minute. “I suspect you won’t let me change subjects until I’ve eaten it,” he surmised.

“You would be right,” Hank said, smirking. He really couldn’t wait to see the look on Connor’s face when he bit into the burger – whether he was surprised by the flavor or still disgusted, either way would be entertaining.

Carefully, Connor took the burger, doing his best to touch it as little as possible. As he lifted the burger, Hank took note of his two bare hands – no soul mark. Connor brought the burger to his lips and hesitated. Despite himself, Hank couldn’t look away from those lips. They were soft and pale, just like the rest of him, and they were parted slightly in preparation for the food. God, Hank needed to get his shit together if he was spending this much energy thinking about some guy’s mouth that he wasn’t about to have sex with.

Connor quickly bit off a small bite and nearly shoved the rest of the burger back into Hank’s hands. Hank watched him with amusement and didn’t miss the way his right eye twitched. Unfortunately there was no major reaction, like the comical ones Hank had been hoping for, but Hank still waited for the final verdict. Would clean-cut Connor like the grease? Or were his pores already beginning to weep?

Finally, Connor frowned and sounded half-apologetic when he said, “I’m sorry. I can’t recommend anyone to eat that.”

Hank burst into a laugh. He hadn’t really expected anything else. Just because Hank, someone who lived in disarray and loved fatty foods, liked the food at Chicken Feed didn’t mean anyone even close to Connor’s style would enjoy it. Even though it meant they had less in common, Hank found it too amusing to be discouraged by it. In fact, he appreciated Connor’s honesty.

Maybe next time he’d let Connor pick where they ate.

“Well, I can’t fault you for bein’ honest.” And Hank finally took a giant bite out of the burger, continuing right where Connor had started. If he were still a hormonal teenager, biting right where Connor had might have made him excited, but Hank was in his fifties and just didn’t want the sandwich to fall apart by losing its support from multiple points.

“So,” Connor began, sounding a little too cool and composed. “I sincerely hope my tip from yesterday proved useful.”

The lieutenant paused mid-chew and frowned slightly. Oh right. The tip. He remembered what they’d discovered when they looked into Connor’s tip – the fact that government equipment could only have been hacked like that by someone in the department. It made Hank sick to his stomach.

“Yeah, it did.” By some miracle, he wasn’t disgusted by the idea of his burger, but he still lowered it. This was important. This was business. “Only thing we can think it means is that there’s a cop behind it all – and I can’t stand dirty cops. Can’t imagine what I’m gonna do to a murdering one.”

Probably murder them right back. He’d probably have to send someone nicer than him to do the arrest – like Ashby. He couldn’t see Ashby hurting anyone, not even a murderer. How unfortunate.

“I’m sorry for upsetting you. My colleagues and I noticed the correlation, but we had no way of concretely proving it – at least not in any way that would be well received.” Connor frowned and looked down at his hands. “We knew only another officer could make the connection and have it mean something. I came to meet you last night in the hopes that my intel was right and you were still a man of integrity and good morals.”

Hank’s gut felt even more nauseated and he nearly dropped his sandwich. His jaw locked up and he felt cold. It should have been obvious, he supposed. Connor knew about Hank as part of the DPD task force. He’d picked Hank to drop his intel to. Obviously he’d done his research, but it still felt like a punch to have it confirmed. It was gonna suck more to blatantly ask the question, but Hank couldn’t stop it from coming out anyway.

“You looked into me?” he asked. Connor nodded, and it took everything in Hank not to throw his burger down and storm off in an angry huff. The disappointment and pity he always felt in the eyes of other people who knew his history was creeping up on him and he hated that he was about to get it from Connor, someone he thought he had some chemistry with. Damn. “What exactly do you think you know about me?”

Connor’s lips pressed together momentarily and then he tilted his head, like a concession of sorts. But it would take more than an innocent face to calm Hank down. “I know you were a bright young officer and an effective detective. You helped end several drug rings during your early years, which helped you become the second youngest lieutenant in Detroit history – although I firmly believe you deserve to be recognized as the youngest, given the way the other man left the department.”

Connor smiled a little, even gave a wink, to accentuate his compliment. The flirtatious movement shocked some of the anger out of Hank. This was not pity or degradation – not yet anyway. Maybe… Maybe this wasn’t the end he’d assumed it was. His shoulders relaxed, his frowned eased, and he gave a look of tacit agreement before taking a new bite of his sandwich. He ate more as a way to busy himself than out of actual hunger.

“I also know your career has suffered the last few years,” Connor continued, and Hank couldn’t help the way he tensed, waiting for the blow. “But you’re still a good detective. Your instincts are solid, and I believe you’re just the officer to solve this case.”

Hank felt himself deflate a bit. Maybe Connor didn’t know the details of his downward spiral, and that was a good thing, but it meant he had a biased view on the rest of Hank. “You really believe that?” he asked, no fire behind his words.

Connor nodded firmly. “I said so just this morning. And I’m not in the habit of lying, Lieutenant.” He hesitated and then grinned. “Especially _to_ a lieutenant.”

Oh man. Hank was still a little despondent, but he managed to chuckle in response to the younger man’s sass. It was definitely possible that Hank could get used to that sense of humor. He smiled at Connor, and the other man smiled back in earnest. Damn, why was he like such a puppy? It made him hard to stay frustrated with. But if he was a dog, then there was one main thing that needed to be trained out of him. Hank squared his shoulders to look more important, but he kept his voice light when he corrected Connor’s manner of address.

“Hank,” the lieutenant corrected good-naturedly. “Jesus. Just call me Hank. I’m not at work right now, and we did the whole introduction thing for a reason. Although it seems like you know a lot more about me than I’ll ever know about you.”

Connor’s eyebrows rose and he leaned forward slightly, eager. “Would you like to know more about me then?” He folded his hands together and, god damn, that had to be illegal.

He was too damn attractive. Like seriously, Hank hadn’t known people like Connor were real – or at least not off the internet and certainly not someone Hank would ever know. Connor, realistically, was kind of goofy looking, with a mouth that opened more on one side than the other, a tense square jaw, a splattering of freckles and moles on his cheeks, and pores so small they had to be fake. Honestly Hank hadn’t been so attracted to a person in over a decade, probably in his whole damn life, but fifty years was a lot of time to forget things.

God, Hank was old. And Connor was young and unmarked. Hank needed to stop hyper focusing on the poor guy.  
  
“No.” Hank shook his head, trying to convince himself he wasn’t interested in anything at all concerning Connor, and went to take a bite of his burger. He paused before the bun touched his lips. Maybe he couldn’t ask super personal questions about relationships or soul mates or what god damned product he used on his skin, but Hank could find safe ground in one line of questioning for certain. “Well, actually, yeah. I mean I know part of being an anonymous informant is staying anonymous, but I gotta admit I'm curious. Would you tell me what you do? Like as a job? You don’t exactly look like the usual type of person who tries to feed me tips under the table.”  
  


The usual person was like Pedro, in an oversized coat and trying too hard to blend in, their hands a little too shaky and their eyes drifting too often. In opposition to that, Connor was steady and calm and dressed like he wanted people to take him seriously – even in his jacket and beanie.

  
Connor nodded. “Well, without going into too much detail, I work in information. Currently I work in a political function, but I originally worked closely with law enforcement.”  
  
“Ah. A point man. No wonder you managed to find a link we overlooked. Also kinda explains the funny way you talk.” And Hank finally took that big bite of his burger. Of course he and Connor meshed well – they were both officers at heart… even if one was a total fuck up now and the other moved into politics. Gross.  
  
“I’m afraid I don't understand, Lieutenant. Is there something wrong with the way I talk?” Connor frowned, but Hank frowned right back.

Jesus, would the kid ever stop calling Hank by his rank and title? It made Hank feel older and less approachable. It made him feel like there was a rift of business and propriety between them that really shouldn’t be possible with Hank eating the greasiest hamburger in Detroit and illegal horse race betting going on in the background. They should be on nicknames or some shit, not on job titles.  
  
After a heavy swallow, Hank said, “No, no. It's just so... formal.” He waved one hand in the air, reaching for the right word. “Technical. Kinda funny. Most people don't talk that way.”  
  
Connor frowned and glanced away. Fuck. Hank was fucking this up. Way to go, _Lieutenant_. Insult your informant so he’ll never talk to you again. Great fucking job.

Hank took a deep, slow breath to calm himself. It took him a long moment, but when he was done Connor was still frowning hard at the pavement. Bad sign.  
  
“Hey. Hey I didn't mean to insult you.” Hank kept his voice lighter than normal, going for placating. The tone tended to work on victims and children. Hell, it had even gotten Cole into bed once in a blue moon. Connor turned back to look at him, and he took that as a good sign it was working on Connor too. “There's nothing wrong with proving you're the smartest one in the room. I mean I'm clearly not the brightest bulb, y'know what I’m saying? Or I woulda guessed you worked in information.”  
  
“Nonsense, Lieu-” Connor hesitated when Hank settled a very disappointed stare on him. “ _Hank_.” Better. “You're a highly intelligent person. If I still worked with law enforcement, I'd be honored to partner with you.”

Hank preened. Sure he felt like a piece of shit most days, and he often believed he was one, but it was still nice to hear someone compliment him. Hell, thirty years ago he would have jumped at the chance to work with Connor. Or just jumped Connor. Honestly, both were likely before Melissa. Before Cole. Now he was just going to bask in the idea for a moment and then move on with his pitiful existence.

Smiling, he took a new bite of his burger. This wasn’t a date, but it wasn’t half bad for a meeting. Hell, if Connor was an officer and they _were_ partners, Hank could see them going out for burgers like this on the regular… you know, if Connor ate burgers. Maybe there was a veggie burger place.

…Gross.

“You miss working with cops?” The question slipped out almost before Hank finished thinking it. Connor turned to him, blinking rapidly with surprise. What a strange guy.  
  
“Hm? Oh.” Connor shrugged but then nodded. “Sometimes. I enjoy my current job. It gives me a purpose. But I think I miss the element of unpredictability and danger that came with law enforcement.”

Hank chuckled a little at that. In the back of his mind, he thought about his soul mate, who was a bit of an adrenaline junkie. “Sounds like something a rookie would say. The thrill of the chase wears off with time. Eventually you just pray the day is boring enough to kill you.”

Or you just drink away the day – but Hank didn’t say that out loud. Connor already knew to find Hank at a bar. He didn’t need to know exactly how much of an alcoholic Hank had become.

Connor frowned. “I certainly hope no day is that boring. Just think how forlorn the world would be if you, and every other seasoned officer, dropped dead at your desks.” He tapped the table top absentmindedly and nodded at nothing. “You’re not allowed to die of boredom, Lieutenant Anderson.”

Hank snorted. “Oh yeah? Why not?”

A smug little smirk replaced Connor’s frown and he nodded toward the burger. “How could something as mundane as boredom possibly kill you when so many other things are trying to get you first? This meal alone is putting money on a heart attack.” He tilted his head to the side. “Anyway, if you were to die of boredom at work, it would mean an end to our partnership. And where would that leave me?”

Hank had to forcibly remind himself that Connor wasn’t flirting with him. Because attractive, young thirty-somethings like Connor didn’t flirt with unwashed, grumpy, fifty-something slobs like Hank.

It took Hank a moment too long to form a response, but eventually he smiled. It was small, but it was true. Maybe Connor wasn’t flirting with him, but it almost sounded like he actually gave a damn about what happened to Hank, and that was nice. Stupid, but nice.

He nodded slightly, eyes locked on Connor’s. With a sarcastic lilt, he said, “Well I suppose I’ll just have to keep chugging along then, huh? Wouldn’t wanna leave poor Connor Arkay without someone to talk to, now would we?”

\--- --- ---

Hank walked in his front door and dropped his keys on the old side table standing there. He shrugged off his coat and hung it up by the door. Then he slipped off his shoes, kicking them to the side, and shuffled over to his couch. With a great sigh, he dropped down on the worn cushions and reached instinctively for his TV remote, but he didn’t turn the screen on.

That hadn’t been a date. As much as Hank had fixated on the idea at the time, that had just been a friendly meeting between colleagues. If it had been a date, Hank would have gotten his head out of his ass and chosen somewhere nicer to go. So it hadn’t been a date.

But Hank still had fun. In fact, he couldn’t think of an outing he’d enjoyed more – not since Cole’s disappearance with his mother. It wasn’t a stretch to say Hank hoped it could happen again.

He dropped the remote and fished his phone out of the pocket of his jeans. When the screen came to life, the contacts app was still open. The new contact listing still stared back at Hank.

Connor Arkay. 313-248-3175.

Wow. Hank let out a low whistle. Meeting or date, Hank had never gotten someone’s number so fast. Maybe Connor was right. Maybe Hank wasn’t as washed up as he thought he was. Maybe he did have some intuition, some skill still rattling around inside him. Just maybe he could solve this case the right way. Get justice for all the innocent androids.

“Whaddya think, Sumo?” Hank asked. The Saint Bernard barely stirred in his bed by the TV. “You think I can pull off one last win for the department?”

The dog didn’t even huff. Hank held his phone up toward the ceiling, considering it from a different angle. He hummed and brought it back down. The bedroom seemed a bit far at the moment, so Hank let himself slip into a lying position on the couch instead.

“Maybe,” he mused aloud.

He’d solve the case for all the androids that were dying. He’d solve it for Fowler and for Cole, just on the off chance there was any hope of seeing his son again. Hell, he’d solve it for Connor’s friends. And damn, he’d forgotten to ask about that. Connor had said his friends depended on Hank solving the case, which had to mean his friends were androids.

Eyes closed, Hank hummed again. Maybe he knew more about Connor than either of them noticed. Maybe his detective skills were spot on. Because Hank had a suddenly clear thought – Connor worked for Jericho, even if just a small branch of it. He grinned. Who needed a phone number? Hank could just hunt Connor down at work.

It was definitely nice to have the number, though. Way nicer.

\--- --- ---

[[Replay as Connor?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180215/chapters/55704757)

[[Continue as Connor?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180215/chapters/55737901)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest. I expected this fic to make me feel better if I posted it. I was hoping this fic would get more feedback. Alas. But I will continue to post it regardless and hope my readers are enjoying it.

The alert went out in the morning. All androids were to refrain from interfacing with new or otherwise unknown devices. The general public didn’t know how the virus was spread, except through direct contact with the infected, so it was important they know that the virus could also be spread through third party interfacing. An infected android could use a computer terminal and infect the next android to use the same terminal. Even downloading emails was potentially dangerous, as was interfacing with grocery store checkout terminals.

In a world so dependent on technology, Hank knew they were asking for a lot. They were basically asking androids to cut themselves off completely from everything they didn’t own personally. It would make them even more dependent on others than humans were, since androids rarely had cash and now could not buy things. They could not interface with new people or accept unknown emails or text messages or other communication. The virus piggybacked on data transfers, and that made everything suspect.

Captain Fowler agreed with the alert going out. He even let Hank have access to public records without asking him why he needed them. But when Hank proposed bringing in suspects, Fowler lit up like a sparkler.

“You have any idea what you’re proposing?!” the captain shouted, voice barely muffled by the walls of his glass office.

“Damn right I have an idea,” Hank growled back.

“You can’t just go accusing COPS of MURDER, Hank!” Fowler snarled. He slapped his hands down on his desk. “Do you know what kind of heat we’d be calling down on our heads if we started roughing up innocent officers?! It’ll be revenge as you’ve never seen! The implications are beyond imagining!”

Now it was Hank’s turn to slam a hand down on the desk. He glared straight into Jeffrey’s unforgiving eyes. “Forty-eight people, Jeffrey! That’s how many androids have died because of this god damned virus! And all the evidence leads us staring right back in the fuckin’ mirror. You tellin’ me we should just let this go because the culprit wears blue?!”

“Of course not, but–,” Captain Fowler began, but Hank bowled right over his excuses.

“But nothin’, Jeffrey! If this were about humans, you wouldn’t even think twice!” He pointed accusingly at his captain, and damn if he wasn’t towing the line by accusing his captain of racism of all things. “Some fucker is out making the rest of us look like accessories to murder, and you want me to play soft ball with them? Fuck that! This prick’s _murdered_ almost fifty people, some of them our own officers. Like hell I’m lettin’ them get away with it, no matter the color of their uniform.”

Fowler let out an angry huff of air, but otherwise he just stared at Hank. His expression was somewhere between considering and frustrated. Hank was sure his own face was nothing but angry determination, and he intended to keep it that way until he won. After a tense moment, Fowler sighed and brought his hand up to rub across his forehead.

“As much as I want to argue the point with you, Hank, I have to admit the evidence is pretty damning.” With a groan of frustration, he pushed back from his desk and crossed his arms. “Damn. Fine. Conduct your interrogations, but try not to step on too many toes. Try to spin it like you’re just gathering information about, I don’t fuckin’ know, how this shit spreads. Whatever you gotta lie about, do it.”

The smile on Hank’s face probably looked too smug, but he didn’t give a fuck. He’d gotten his clearance. When Jeffrey didn’t immediately continue speaking, Hank took that as an end to the meeting and headed for the door. Only when his hand connected with the handle did the captain decide to add something more.

“The evidence _is_ powerful, Hank, but that’s not the main reason I’m giving my consent,” he said.

Hank glanced back over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. “Oh yeah? What’s the main reason?”

Jeffrey Fowler looked happier than Hank had seen him in a long, long time. He wasn’t exactly smiling, but there was some fondness around his tired eyes, and Hank had no idea why. The captain leaned back in his chair and waved at Hank from head to toe.

“Haven’t seen you this passionate about a case in years,” he said. “If you’re this invested you must really believe you’re on to something, and I’m not about to take that spark away from you.”

Hank rolled his eyes, but he flashed a little smile too. “Oh, fuck off, Jeffrey,” he said with no heat, and then he left the office. It was time to investigate their frankly enormous pool of suspects.

\--- --- ---

Interviewing cops was hard, because they always kinda knew something was up. Hank didn’t outright accuse any of them of tampering with parking meters or creating a virus to murder all androids, but he was thinking it in his head the whole time. After four morning ‘interviews’, Hank didn’t think any of them were their culprit. They didn’t have the skills necessary to make the virus, nor did any of them seem to harbor any kind of ill will toward androids as a whole. One had beef with a specific android at work, but it was over locker space, so Hank doubted it was relevant.

After four dud interviews, Hank wanted a beer, but he doubted Fowler kept a stock in the break room and Fowler definitely wouldn’t approve if he saw Hank bringing in his own six pack. Taking a lunch break was the next best thing.

His lunch was Chinese takeout he’d ordered before his last interview, and it had arrived by the time he meandered over to his desk for lunch. Ah, Chinese. Hank loved that stuff.

Briefly, he thought of Connor and how the guy would probably make some kind of comment about the sodium content of soy sauce or some shit. His lips quirked up into a smile as he sank down into his chair. Connor was such a health nut. It was no wonder he was in such good shape.

Pulling his phone out, Hank looked down at the text he’d sent out that morning. He’d sent it right before he’d left for work, some 5 hours earlier. He stared at the number, at Connor’s number, but he had no way to double check it. Well, not without breaking a couple laws.

‘hey. Just trying out the number you gave me last night. Prove it’s you and maybe I’ll keep you updated about the case.’

The app didn’t suggest that Connor had even seen his message much less replied. He furrowed his brow at the screen. Maybe Connor’s phone was off, or he was busy, or really anything. Anything at all was a preferable excuse to ‘Connor gave me a fake number’. God, that would be embarrassing and more than a little disappointing. Hank shook his head and turned off his screen. He shouldn’t obsess over it while at work. He was already distracted enough by his desire for booze and his fucked up life. He didn’t need to add some kind of messed up half-crush gone wrong to the list of problems in his life.

He put his phone away and set about unpacking his lunch. Across the walkway, Ashby was hard at work as always, but she was taking lunch too. A tiny bottle of blue liquid sat on her desk – some kind of thirium refresher or whatever. Hank didn’t know all the details about how Androids worked, even after more than thirty years with them everywhere. After they’d gained their personhood, Hank had even less reason to learn how to operate an android. It wasn’t pertinent information anymore.

But Hank’s eyes were drawn by that little blue bottle, and then by the hand that lifted it up to take a drink.

“Hey.” He got no response, so he raised his voice a bit. “Ashby.” She glanced over, curious. “Was that there yesterday?” Hank asked, motioning to the back of his hand and then pointed at her hand instead.

A smile, less polite and more honestly happy, grew on the android’s face. It was a bit shocking, but also so human it made something in Hank ache. Ashby lifted her hand and stared down at the new mark imprinted there as if it were a fricking diamond ring. Where yesterday there had been blank synthskin, today Hank saw the image of a flower – a large, intricate bloom.

“No. This is new.” She continued gazing at her hand as she spoke to Hank. “My girlfriend met me when I clocked out last night. She is very sweet. She brought me my thirium restorer and told me she wanted to spend the rest of our days together.” A very human sigh passed her lips. “After that, we attempted to match, and it worked.”

Her eyes drifted to Hank’s blank hands, and he retracted them from sight self-consciously.

“You have not met your soul mate yet.” She didn’t say it the way other people normally did, like they were judging Hank for being so old without a match. She said it like she now knew why people pitied unmarked coworkers. She said it like she was sad for Hank, but not like she was condescending his status.

Hank cleared his throat. “Uh, no. No, I haven’t.” He cleared his throat again, getting anxious. “So your girl. She an android too?”

“No.” Ashby glanced down at her own hand again, unable to keep the smile off her face. “She’s human, like you.” Her smile stayed as she turned to completely focus on Hank. “Would you tell me about your soul mate?”

This was definitely not the conversation Hank had been expecting when he came in to work today. He frowned hard, his anxiety over his soul mate rising up like bile in his throat. “No,” he grunted without a second of hesitation.

A little twitch of a frown interrupted Ashby’s bliss. She nodded as she returned her attention to her terminal. “I apologize. I’m being inappropriate.”

It was definitely the first time Hank had ever seen the woman truly frown. She always had that polite smile on, and even when they discovered their culprit was probably a cop she only looked concerned. This frown was just sad, and Hank had inflicted it. He let out a gruff huff. He could even drive someone as nice as Ashby to frown like that, huh?

“They’re, uh… They like dogs,” he said, and Ashby’s interest was re-piqued.

Conscious of his privacy, Ashby pulled her chair over to Hank’s desk and sat down. Far more professional than the way Hank slid his chair around while still in it. She said nothing, politely waiting for him to continue. God, Hank wished he had a program to prolong his patience too.

“And uh, they’re really neat and organized.” Hank cleared his throat, but Ashby just smiled encouragingly. “Um. They like air around rain? I think. And sunrises. I’m pretty sure their favorite color is blue. Let’s see… They like jazz music.” He knew so many small details about his soul mate, but in the moment he felt like they’d fallen right out of his ears. “They… They respect people in authority, like officers, but I get this… _feeling_ that they would fight a boss if they had to, no matter their station.”

Ashby nodded then held up her hand a little, like asking for permission to speak in class. “Can I make an observation, Lieutenant?”

That question alone made Hank a little nervous and itching for a drink. “Uh. I guess?”

“You have not mentioned a favorite food, drink, or smell,” she said.

Hank’s eyebrows rose a bit. Well he’d never even noticed that. His eyebrows pulled low and he stared hard at his desk, trying to think back to any type of food he’d gotten that familiar feeling about. Even before Hank had started eating like crap, he couldn’t remember ever seeing something on a menu or in a window or on television that made him think ‘ah, that’s so-and-so’s favorite food’. Ashby was right. Hank couldn’t think of any food or drink or scent that had drawn up thoughts of his soul mate.

“What…” He frowned, suddenly concerned. “What does that mean?”

Did his soul mate not have a sense of smell, and in turn have no proper sense of taste? Were they walking around eating things without enjoying them? Did Hank liking crap food get on their nerves since they couldn’t taste anything? Or was it possible for someone to really have no preference? Could someone go their whole life, eating all the food around, and have no preference for any of it? Did such a person exist?

“I think your soul mate could be an android,” Ashby explained. She seemed pleased at the idea. Like maybe fuck-up Lieutenant Hank Anderson got a bit brighter in her respect because he had an android soul mate.

“Excuse me?” Hank asked, sounding rougher than he intended.

Ashby shrugged it off. “Androids have no sense of taste or smell. We can tell what is causing a smell if it’s strong enough, for example a decomposing body or a gas leak and _maybe_ highly spiced or garlic food, but we have no sensor or programming for enjoying or not enjoying smells. The same can be said of taste. Most of us can eat, even if only a small amount, but it’s for social reasons not sustenance. We have no taste buds, although some do have sensors that can dissect the composition of the food as it passes over the tongue. But again, it’s not taste buds. There’s no ‘enjoying’ it. It’s just information.”

Hank shook his head. “But that doesn’t mean my soul mate is automatically an android, right?”

“I suppose it’s not concrete evidence,” Ashby conceded. “But it does seem rather telling. Liza was like you. She knew so many of my preferences, but she’d never noticed anything involving food. That’s what gave her the courage to confront me about it. She realized her match must not have taste buds, and I don’t.” She smiled coyly. “Obviously my other traits lined up too. But it’s worth considering, Lieutenant.”

“Yeah,” Hank agreed, but his mind had drifted.

He’d never considered that before. His neat-freak, authority respecting, no sense of taste soul mate could have veins of thirium. Hank always thought of his soul mate more than he wanted to, but somehow his brain had always defaulted to a human match. That was careless of a man who lived through the revolution and knew full well the living status of androids. Hell, he’d worked cases of abusive victims who were androids just looking for their soul mates. He’d attended the wedding of a coworker and an android some eight years ago, before…. Before.

Basically, he should have known his options ran beyond flesh and blood.

Ashby returned to her station without Hank really taking note of her departure. He’d never dated an android. He’d already been with Melissa when the world discovered their new creations had souls, and after Melissa he’d been too hyper focused on finding his son, and nowadays he was just generally considered a fuck up and an alcoholic, and who’d want to date that?

Maybe his soul mate _was_ an android. They were generally more patient than humans, and their lack of need for sleep, food, and proper shelter meant that Hank’s terrible eating habits and messy house wouldn’t be make-or-break issues. Of course, Hank would try to make his house as hospitable as possible, but he wasn’t promising to lasso the moon or anything. His diet was his diet and there wasn’t much chance he’d be changing it. Judgmental androids could go sleep in the garage if they had a problem with it.

Damn, he needed to slow down. He was taking this all way too damn serious. An android being his soul mate was just a working theory. He didn’t need to go planning his whole life around the idea. Shit.

Lunch ended with Hank only finishing half his food, but it was enough. Chen took the next several interviews to give Hank a break from repeating himself. On his way to check on her, Hank spotted Reed talking to a beat cop. It was unusual to see him fraternizing with anyone he didn’t think could boost his career, but Hank didn’t recognize the cop either. Maybe his uncle was the commissioner or something.

Either way, Reed spotted him and adopted an expression that clearly told him to ‘mind your own fuckin’ business, old man.’ Hank rolled his eyes, sighed, and moved on with his day. Once again he was glad Reed wasn’t on the task force. Having to work in close parameters with that guy would’ve been a nightmare. Being in the same precinct was already too much some days.

Chen had just finished an interview when Hank showed up at the door to the meeting room. “Lieutenant.” She stepped back to let him into the room and then closed the door so they were alone. “I’ve finished three interviews. So far no one seems to fit the mold of a secret tech genius.”

“Yeah, I got that impression this morning too.” Hank rubbed the back of his neck. “Unfortunately, there’s no way to do a parameter search for somethin’ like that. ‘Secret tech hobby’ doesn’t get listed in personnel files.”

Chen nodded, understanding. She sighed and picked up another file off the table. She had a stack of ten or so waiting. “Well.” She looked at him with mock excitement. “Time to go find the next possible murderer.”

Hank actually chuckled at the joke and motioned for her to continue. “Careful. Fowler might think we’re enjoying this too much.”

“Oh, never, Lieutenant. Our secret is safe with me.” Chen winked and then left to find her next waiting officer.

Despite his relatively good mood, a wave of nausea suddenly crashed through him. He held his head and grabbed for the nearest chair. “Ah, fuck,” he cursed softly. The nausea passed almost as quickly as it came, and Hank felt winded in the aftermath. “Fuck, I need a drink.”

He barely kept his feet under him as he left the interview room and made for the exit. Ashby looked up as he passed, but she didn’t try to stop him. Damn android cop eyes probably meant she had a good idea where he was going and why. No one was gonna stop him if he had any say in it, because he did not feel like going into some stupid withdrawal just because he decided to start showing up to work on time. Fuck, he drank too much.

\--- --- ---

The text came in with Hank on his couch, one bottle of Daniels down his sorry throat. Ignoring the game playing on the TV, Hank lifted his phone to see who the fuck wanted his attention now.

His heart jumped to his throat and back down. It was Connor! Hank nearly knocked over his second bottle in his excitement. He took a deep breath. Shut the fuck up, stupid racing heart. It was just a text. Damn.

‘I apologize for the delay. I was distracted by a meeting this morning and lost track of time. I would very much like to hear updates of the case this way, if you prefer it. I know I prefer it to watching you eat that atrocious burger last night.’

He looked over the words and almost chuckled at the burger comment. Alright, it was definitely Connor. He quickly typed out a response. ‘Case closed. It’s definitely you,’ Hank sent. A moment later he added, ‘Dunno that I prefer it exactly. But it is hella quicker and more ‘efficient’ than waiting for you outside a bar every night.’

Also probably better for his liver, but considering he’d just run out of work early to drink… it probably didn’t matter where Hank waited for Connor.

A moment or two passed before Connor’s response finally popped up. ‘Correct. Please don’t freeze on my account. The weather is getting colder every day.’ At least that dummy seemed to care if Hank froze, right? Well, maybe he just cared because a frozen Hank couldn’t solve the virus case. Either way, Hank was gonna try to take it positively. Then Connor sent a second text. ‘Just one more reason to avoid Chicken Feed too.’

Hank laughed out loud. God, Connor really hated that burger, huh?

‘Your a real comedian,’ Hank sent back. His eyes narrowed and then he cursed. He’d used the wrong word. Fuck. Connor definitely was gonna notice that shit.

If he did, he didn’t mention it, thank God. ‘Thanks. I can say with certainty that no one has ever said that about me before.’

Hank was not surprised. Connor didn’t seem the type to be a comedian at parties. He’d barely cracked a smirk, much less a grin, in the two times Hank had met him. And that was saying something, because Connor was clearly trying to butter Hank up to earn his trust in both scenarios. With a sudden bittersweet feeling, Hank wondered if Connor had nothing to smile about. Maybe something was weighing down on him, the way Hank had his guilt and his loneliness. Maybe they had something in common there.

‘Apologies, Hank. I’m at work, so I can’t talk. But please feel free to update me with anything,’ Connor sent.

Sighing, Hank sent back a quick, ‘Yeah, no worries. I’m workin’ too. I’ll text you later.’

It was a lie, but Connor didn’t need to know that. Hank should have expected Connor to still be working in the middle of the afternoon. Only sad sacks like Hank ditched work halfway through the day. Fowler was going to really lay into him when he got back tomorrow.

Or maybe he could go back today. He’d had his drinks. His nausea and headaches were gone. He could probably get in a few more hours, right? Normally he wouldn’t give a shit, but there was something about this case. It was like he had two pestering angels on his shoulders. One was Fowler, selling the case as a gold star on his record that might help him get his son back. The other was Connor, with his goofy face and innocent voice, telling Hank that his friends’ lives depended on him solving the case.

“Ah, fuck it,” Hank said with a groan. He hoisted himself off the couch and grabbed his coat. Guess he was going back to the fuckin’ office. It just figured that when he finally got his conscience back, he’d get two of them. Just his luck.

\--- --- ---

[[Replay as Connor?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180215/chapters/55737901)

[[Continue as Connor?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180215/chapters/55997191)


	4. Chapter 4

Work was such a piece of shit. Hank would drag himself out of bed, make himself ‘presentable’, go sit at his desk for an hour, then do the same god damn interview with a new series of cops and detectives who were suspicious or antagonistic the whole fuckin’ time. Eventually he got a lunch and eventually he got to drive his piece of shit car back home. He’d drink a couple bottles of whatever alcohol he had in the fridge and then he’d pass out in his underwear. Start the whole circus over bright and early the next day.

This whole case was becoming redundant and taxing, and it had only been three days of interviews. Every interview seemed rehearsed, with every cop giving variations of the same answers. Yeah they had heard about the android virus. No they hadn’t heard anything suspicious in their work. Yeah they worked traffic or parking meters sometimes, but they didn’t know anything about programming. “Am I under investigation?” and “Is the virus parking related?” came up every time, and Hank’s team always downplayed both. If the interviews did scare up a witness or a culprit, they didn’t need the cop in question to know about their case ahead of time. Rumors were already swirling. Soon the interviews would be useless.

At the end of day three, Hank handed the last set of interviews to Ashby. Chen had left early to get her daughter from school, so Ashby was taking over her part of the work. Hank was about to ditch the precinct too, go find a bar and drink until he had to call a cab home. Even his two shoulder angels couldn’t convince him to spend one more second than absolutely necessary in the precinct after the disappointing day he’d had.

He pulled his coat on as Ashby went to retrieve her first interview, and he was halfway to the door when she passed him in the opposite direction, leading her first potential suspect. Hank hesitated and turned to watch them walk back toward the meeting room. The guy looked familiar. It took Hank too long to remember why, but then again his brain was already halfway to the bar without him.

Reed had been talking to that guy in the hall on the first day they’d started interviews. For some reason, that really rubbed Hank the wrong way. Instead of continuing out the door to his much desired alcohol coma, Hank turned and walked briskly to the meeting room. The door hadn’t shut behind Ashby yet when he got there, so he managed to slip in without being too obvious that he hadn’t been invited.

Ashby gave him a curious look, obviously confused why he wasn’t leaving anymore when he’d already assigned this work to her. Hank gave her a shrug and a raise of his eyebrows, which he hoped communicated his hope that she wouldn’t question it and just act like he was meant to be in the room.

Without waiting to make sure she understood, Hank turned to the cop and extended his hand. “Lieutenant Anderson. Thank you for sparing your time to help our investigation.”

The cop, Officer Derry, shook the hand warily before they all took a seat. “I wasn’t aware I had a choice. My captain made it sound like a requirement. But I don’t know what I can do to help. I don’t know anything about programming.”

Ashby gently set her interview folder on the table. “You’ve heard about these interviews already,” she surmised.

Officer Derry nodded. He didn’t look nervous, but he was far from confident. “A couple of buddies we share the office with have already been through this. You know how people talk.”

Hank raised an eyebrow. “You sure you didn’t hear about it from someone else?”

Ashby cast a curious look his way but quickly returned her expression to a neutral smile. Officer Derry’s brow knit. “Yeah? I’m sure. Why would I lie ‘bout that?”

“Just making sure,” Hank said, lying effortlessly. “We have some chatter boxes in our bullpen.”

While Hank leaned back, Ashby leaned forward. “So you have no expertise in programming. That’s unfortunate. But we were hoping that you had, perhaps, seen or heard something pertaining to the virus’s spread or its origin. Perhaps you did not notice the evidence at the time, so please take a moment to think it over. Have you any information about the virus?”

Officer Derry frowned. “I’m just a traffic cop. I check meters, I hand out tickets, and I leave the real police work to detectives like you. If someone had messed with my meters, I’d have noticed, alright? I check ‘em every day.”

“You check them?” Ashby asked. “Can you explain that?”

Officer Derry rolled his eyes a little. “What? You can’t just look it up in that robot brain of yours?” He sighed in agitation. “Listen, I know being a traffic cop is grunt work and all, but we do have to have some kind of skills. Every morning, I make sure the overnight updates were downloaded. I put my security card into the hub box for each block, a bunch of info pops up on the screen that I’m not gonna explain, and after I verify it’s right, I close the box and move on to the next block. But I check every box in my rounds every single day. That’s my job. Enough information for ya, bot?”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Hank interrupted, drawing Officer Derry’s annoyed look away from Ashby. “No name calling in here. We’re all on the same team. She’s just gathering information so we can figure out how shit works. And even if she _could_ look it up online, I sure as hell can’t do that in here. So next time, same story but with less sass, alright?”

Officer Derry looked rightfully scolded, hunching his shoulders and staring at the table. “Yeah, alright. Sorry, I guess.”

“That’s better.” Hank nodded to Ashby, who was giving him the weirdest look – like she was thanking him or something. Why–… Oh. Right. He gave her a weak smile and then motioned for her to continue the interview. People looking at him like that made him uncomfortable these days – like he’d tricked them into doing it.

Ashby asked a few more questions, trying to determine if the officer was lying about his understanding of programming past his daily meter checks. Chances were he wasn’t making super viruses. The guy barely knew how to operate his phone.

“Thank you for your time, Officer Derry,” Ashby said again, signaling the end of the interview. She stood, and so did he, but Hank remind seated.

“One more question – not about the investigation,” Hank said, waving absently toward Ashby and her file. He focused intently on Officer Derry. “How do you and Detective Reed know each other?”

Officer Derry’s eyebrows rose briefly, but then he was shaking his head. “I don’t know Detective Reed. We just kinda barely acknowledge each other when we happen to be in the same hall.”

“And why would Reed bother acknowledging an officer from another precinct? He barely gives the ones that work here the time of day as it is.” Hank still hadn’t risen from his chair, and that seemed to make Officer Derry just as uncomfortable as the line of questioning.

The officer shifted from foot to foot. “I don’t know Detective Reed very well. But I went to school with his brother. They’re both pretty weird, but you don’t spit in the eye of someone who could be your boss one day, you know? So I say hi when I see him.” He looked away from Hank and toward Ashby with more focus than he’d given her the entire interview. “Are we finished?”

“Yes. You’re free to leave now,” Ashby assured, motioning toward the door. “Have a good day.”

Officer Derry left quickly and kept his head down the whole way through the bullpen. When he turned the corner toward reception, Ashby hummed.

“Are you going to make me ask?”

Hank waved dismissively, but he shook his head too. “Nah. I just saw the guy having a conversation with Reed the other day. Thought it was too much of a coincidence that he’d be in our pool of suspects… but maybe I was wrong.”

Something about the interview wasn’t right, but Officer Derry definitely didn’t have the tech knowledge to pull off a virus of this scale. He probably couldn’t program his way out of a paper bag. But something was definitely up. Hank was gonna figure it out, too.

After he got a drink. And then slept it off. And then took something for the hangover.

He’d figure it out tomorrow.

\--- --- ---

The sunrise over the Detroit Riverfront was objectively beautiful, what with the way it changed colors in the sky, the way it looked so crisp, and the way the light bounced off the water. To most people this would be a perfect view. To Hank it was a headache drilling into his temple.

He’d drunk himself to sleep last night, but not before getting a request to meet up from Connor. Maybe it was the drink, but he’d agreed before even seeing the time or location. It only hit him later that he’d accepted a meeting at eight in the frickin’ morning, meaning he’d have to be up before seven if he hoped to be halfway decent _and_ drive all the way across town. And on his only day off.

Damn. Connor was lucky he was pretty, because Hank didn’t do this shit for anyone else.

Hank trudged through Milliken State Park, which was just beginning to populate with early-bird tourists. The wetlands exhibit was all but deserted, except of course for Connor Arkay. The young man was standing just under the shade of the pavilion, his gaze cast off to the side where a bush of red flowers was refusing to wilt in the chill air.

As Hank approached, Connor turned fluidly to greet him. The tiniest of smiles lifted his lips temporarily. “Good morning, Hank,” he said.

“Dunno how ‘good’ it is,” Hank grumbled, shifting his coat tighter. The air was too cold and Connor looked too good standing there. He was barely wearing enough layers, and the sight kind of made Hank want to fork over his coat, but the chill reminded him not to. Besides, Connor looked as unbothered as the flowers. “What was so damn important that you wanted to meet at eight in the god damn morning?” Hank yawned, unable to hold it in, and rubbed his red eyes.

God, maybe the two drinks he’d had that morning weren’t such a good idea. The drowsiness from waking up early was mixing with the depressant qualities of alcohol and making him even more tired. But then, if he hadn’t had the drink this morning, he’d be dealing with all the nausea and headaches and generally shitty feelings being sober gave him. He knew it was because he drank too much. He knew it was withdrawal symptoms. But he couldn’t just stop. The drink kept him going.

Connor frowned, and though he didn’t say anything at first Hank was somehow sure the younger man knew about the booze. Fuck. That simple look was already making him feel guilty, just like Connor mentioning work had gotten him to go back to the office.

“I’ve been here for a few hours – came to see the sunrise,” Connor admitted. “Judging by your state, I’d say you’ve been awake for awhile as well. So forgive me if I don’t feel too guilty about the hour of our meeting.”

Shit. Was it the smell or his general appearance that gave him away? Fuck. Groaning, Hank said, “Spare me the lecture, alright? It’s been a rough couple of days. Now why are we meeting here? In the cold?” Hank motioned generically around them. A glorified water garden didn’t seem like a usual meet up spot to exchange information.

Connor glanced back at the wetlands. “I like this place. These wetlands have been around for almost forty years.”

Shrugging, Hank finally took a serious look around. The water was clear, and birds were moving between the grasses. “Yeah. My old man brought us up this way when it first opened.” He scoffed, remembering all the people scrambling to see the new exhibit. They’d all been convinced it wouldn’t be around long. “God, I really am old, aren’t I?”

“Age is relative,” Connor countered and it felt like a somehow-pleasant-punch to Hank’s stomach. “These wetlands were once brown and dying. Now they span over twelve acres and filter over four and a half million gallons of surface runoff each year. Multiply that by forty years. And though many thought the wetlands project wouldn’t be sustainable or maintain the interest of visitors, it continues to thrive as a go-to destination for tourists. Over sixty species of birds call the wetland home, some of which were never seen in Detroit before its creation. And the wetlands are still thriving.”

“Jesus! Did you memorize the info boards or something?” Hank ran a hand through his hair and over his tired face. Connor chose the right fuckin’ field to work in. God damn! What kind of person could just spit out facts like that? Hank couldn’t even repeat them and he’d just heard them! “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Do you know what separates these thriving wetlands from, for example, a fifty-year-old alcoholic?” Connor looked too damn calm considering he was poking a bear. Hank gave a hard stare back, trying not to flip straight into defensive anger. The fuck was Connor playing at? “Care and attention.”

“Fuck you,” Hank said with a sneer. Anger won out. “If you got a problem with me, just say it straight, asshole. You don’t gotta make some pretty analogy out of it, and you sure as hell didn’t need to drag me out of bed at the crack of dawn to tell me either.”

Being pretty wasn’t gonna save Connor this time. Yeah, Hank knew he’d screwed up his body and his life, but he didn’t need every asshole pointing it out to him. He hated himself enough without it being pointed out that his shortcomings were obvious to literally everyone. God damn!

He moved to leave, but Connor snatched up his wrist with very little effort. “Hold on a moment, Lieutenant.” Hank tried to rip his arm away, but Connor was stronger. Shit, he was strong. Strong enough that Hank hazarded a look back. “I wanted to show you this ecosystem, not to insult you but to inspire you. I’m aware you’ve been having a difficult time lately. It was my hope that you could see these wetlands, so clear and healthy in the middle of a dirty city like Detroit, and you would realize it wasn’t too late to make changes in your own life.”

Not too late. He could hear Fowler in his head, convincing him to take the virus case. It wasn’t too late to salvage his reputation, his job. He could earn a win, put a gold star on his record again. He could do it for Cole. But that was a case. That was work. Was it really not too late to fix… the rest?

Hank pulled away, but it wasn’t as forceful as his first attempt so Connor released him. He frowned over at the red flowers, still blooming in the cold autumn air. “What kind of changes do you think I need, exactly?”

“That is entirely up to you. No one can be forced to change.” Connor looked over at the flowers as well, and a little smile actually graced his face. The image sealed itself in Hank’s memory and gave him a funny feeling, something like hope. “Like these plants, I think your body could still be revitalized. All you need is a little detox, maybe a few new healthy habits. I cannot help you with the drinking, but if you’d like I could suggest some healthy foods that may increase your natural energy and brain function.”

No one… Hank had been popular at work before he lost Cole, but he couldn’t say he’d had a lot of friends. After Cole, a lot of cops had sworn to stand with him and help him get his son back. But it quickly became clear that their help only extended to the walls of the precinct, or to the edges of their desks. Hank had Jeffrey, of course, but that was his boss. He had a lot to deal with, and he did everything his job let him do without abusing his power. Jeffrey was still trying to look out for Hank, but Hank was a lot to handle.

And here was this guy, someone Hank barely knew, who saw Hank’s struggle and said ‘I can help you with some of this.’ Just how had these circumstances come together? How was it possible to find someone like this is real life? This was a movie trope. What the hell?

Connor looked over at him, then quickly looked away. “I apologize,” Connor said, his shoulders hunching slightly. “I acted rashly and overstepped. Regardless of my intentions, this was all very rude. I’m sorry.”

That little tuft of hair was escaping his beanie again today. How would he look without that hat? Did all of his hair match the soft tuft? Was it surprisingly long? Hank forced himself to stop thinking about it before he could try to touch what little hair he could see.

“Well,” Hank mumbled, embarrassed by his own thoughts. This was a serious conversation. Connor was making an effort, so it was only fair for Hank to meet him part way, right? “You’re the second person to tell me I needed to get my shit together during this investigation.” He looked away from Connor. His eyes landed on his shoes, watching the way the sun curved over the grooves. “I’ve known the other guy longer, of course, but he told me I needed to solve this case to help my work record – make myself seem more presentable and respectable.”

Finally his eyes met Connor’s, and he saw an openness there that he hadn’t seen directed at him from anyone in years. It made Hank wish he could match Connor’s goals. Eating better sounded good. Maybe he could walk Sumo longer some days to get them both some exercise. But he didn’t know if he could keep it up. It had been years since he’d been anywhere near ‘healthy’.

He felt like such a disappointment when he admitted, “Sometimes the booze is the only reason I get out of bed in the mornin’, you know?”

Connor nodded slowly, like maybe he really did understand. He reached out hesitantly and put a hand on Hank’s shoulder. Through his coat, Hank felt no warmth, but the kind thought was still received, even if Hank didn’t think he deserved it. “We will have to find you a new reason, then, won’t we?”

Jesus Christ. Hank blamed the booze for his crazy thoughts. Focus on Cole, he told himself. The new reason was Cole. It wasn’t Connor because Hank barely knew Connor. They’d only been in each other’s lives for like a week, not even. No, his reason had to be Cole.

After a minute of discussion, Hank agreed to hear Connor’s ideas of healthier foods and snacks, but he made no promises to actually eat them. The alcoholic part was the hard bit. Hank had to keep working, but going through a cold turkey detox would put him in a hospital for several days, assuming everything went well. After the case, Hank promised. He’d try seeing a doctor about a detox after he closed the android case. Until then, maybe he’d go to some kind of alcoholics meeting. But again, he couldn’t guarantee being sober would be a good fit for him anymore. No matter how much he’d like it to be.

“I know we’re almost strangers,” Connor said as they began walking back toward the parking lot. “So it means a lot to me that you’ve listened honestly to my suggestions.”

“If it makes you feel better, I’m mostly doing it for my son.” Hank rubbed at his beard, scratching his chin with the hair. “He’d be hella disappointed if he saw me these days. And I gotta do right by him, you know? Fuck the rest of the world, but you gotta care about your kids.”

Did Connor have any kids? He was definitely old enough, but he didn’t act like a typical father would – like someone who’d had to raise an infant into a full-fledged person. But maybe Hank was just stereotyping. Just because Connor wasn’t soul matched didn’t mean he didn’t have kids. Hank did, after all.

Connor nodded beside him, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “Your son is very lucky to have a father who cares about him so much,” he said, and Hank smiled. Damn it felt good to hear something like that. Suddenly Connor asked, “Do you have a dog?”

The fuck? There was a missed half-step in Hank’s stride before he managed to save himself. He looked over at Connor in bewilderment. “How the fuck did you know that? Is that in my profile?”

Connor shook his head. “There are dog hairs on your jacket. Is it a big dog?”

“Uh. Yeah.” Hank brushed at his shoulder, as if that would knock away all the evidence. This was hella random. What? “Saint Bernard. Name’s Sumo, ‘cause he’s big but strong.”

“That’s a good name for a dog.” Connor nodded absently. “I like big dogs. The ones at the shelter always seem to like me too. Small dogs are fun, of course, but big dogs are better.”

That drew a soft, surprised sound from Hank, and he flashed Connor a small smile. “Damn, you really like dogs, huh?”

Connor nodded. “I volunteer at an animal shelter when I need a day off.” He paused long enough for a breath before adding, “Maybe I can meet Sumo one day.”

Meet Sumo. Connor wanted to coach Hank on healthy living and he wanted to meet Sumo. It was entirely possible Hank was letting this man too close too fast. This was how people ended up murdered in their own homes. But it was the weirdest thing – Hank’s normally defensive nature wasn’t kicking in. If anybody else had talked to him the way Connor had this morning, Hank would have stormed off without a second thought. And imagining someone might have ulterior motives was like Hank’s second nature. Yet somehow all of those negative thoughts refused to cling to Connor.

In fact the thought of Connor meeting Sumo was kind of amusing. The dog would probably knock Connor off his feet. The guy probably weighed like no more than a hundred and fifty, right? Even with his jacket, there was no hiding how skinny he was.

They were nearly to the parking lot when Connor finally spoke again. When Connor looked at him, Hank rolled his shoulders and tried to seem laid back, like he hadn’t been sizing Connor up to determine his weight and how easy it would be for his dog to turn him into a pancake.

“Is everything alright, Hank?” Connor asked. Oh right. Hank hadn’t replied to that last comment. Whoops.

“Yeah, yeah. Fine,” Hank said. He shrugged. “Was just thinking. You know, Sumo doesn’t get many visitors.”

“That’s unfortunate. He would probably love a dog park.” Connor glanced to the side, blinking a little too rapidly to look totally normal, but then he looked back at Hank as though nothing had happened. “There’s one not far from your house. I’ve never been there personally, but I’m sure it’s well tended to.”

“Yeah? Maybe you could show me sometime. I’ve never actually been to a dog park.” They had reached Hank’s car, and he tapped the roof by the driver side door. Logically it was time to part ways, but he didn’t feel like leaving just yet.

Connor smiled slightly. “I’d enjoy that. I’ll make time on your next day off, if you’d like.”

That little half-smile was starting to irritate Hank. What was it gonna take to get a real grin out of this guy? Well hey, maybe a dog? Maybe this Sumo play date could have multiple positive outcomes: Social interaction for Hank outside of work, Sumo getting a good workout, and Connor finally cracking a damn grin.

“Sure. I’ll text you,” Hank said, looking forward to it already. He just needed to check his schedule.

Connor stood there on the sidewalk in front of Hank’s car, hands clasped behind his back like a social worker. But the way he was rocking slightly gave away his excitement. He inclined his head toward Hank, that little half grin making another appearance.

“I’ll be waiting.”

\--- --- ---

The third bottle of Black Lamb Scotch Whiskey hung limply in Hank’s fingers, virtually untouched. He’d taken one swig before he’d gotten distracted by his old man hands. The wrinkles, the age spots, the hair… Who could love a man with hands like this? With a belly like this? A face like this?

He curled and uncurled his fingers, watching the movement of his joints. Ashby had suggested Hank’s soul mate was an android. Maybe it did make sense. After all, maybe only an android could see past all of the years hanging on Hank.

Drinking more wouldn’t help with the wrinkles or the face or the belly, he reminded himself. Normally this line of thinking didn’t help, but today he had Connor’s voice along with his own, and somehow that made the thought stronger.

Connor was seeing past his ugly exterior to what potential lay beneath, Hank thought. Not that Connor had ever called him fat or ugly. It wasn’t like Connor had compared him to other people. In fact, he’d only compared Hank to the wetlands, to flowers. A guy could potentially get used to that.

His tipsy thoughts swayed into pressing his hand to Connor’s, just for fun, and what would happen if they matched. What kind of symbol or blob would appear between the two of them? No, it didn’t matter. Hank’s soul mate was probably an android, some officer in the force that he had yet to really interact with. Connor was a point man for Jericho, but that didn’t make him an android. He didn’t have any android markings… not that they all did. Many androids removed their identifiers.

Connor was stupid smart. Android smart? Connor was strangely handsome. A purposeful design? Connor was patient and kind. Was he born that way or created that way?

Even drunk, Hank wasn’t stupid. Connor gave off a lot of android tells, but he hadn’t come right out and claimed to be one either. What if Connor was just… on the autism spectrum? It wasn’t unthinkable that someone like that would prefer the company of androids. And Connor had said his ‘friends’ depended on the cure, not his ‘people’, the way many androids spoke about others of their kind.

“Fuck,” Hank groaned out, dropping his hand out of view. “I’m too sober for this.”

But he put the whiskey down on the table and moved it out of reach. Soul mate or no soul mate, Connor was trying to help him. Hank wasn’t gonna screw that up by fixating on something that might not even be true.

Besides, he still had a case to solve, and he’d forgotten to think about it all day.

\--- --- ---

[[Replay as Connor?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180215/chapters/55997191)

[[Continue as Connor?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180215/chapters/56294716)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Animal Crossing has taken over my free time. But my job is now only operating about half the time, so I should be able to keep the updates more regular now.

The interviews ended without anyone standing out as a murderous psychopath. Pity. That was a week of Hank’s life that he’d never get back. Okay so it was like four days, but it felt endless. And it didn’t help that fuckin’ Reed kept lording it over the whole team that he’d escaped their monotony.

Chen was right. Reed was not a fan of androids, and he made it supremely clear every day that their case moved nowhere. It would have been a nightmare if Reed had actually stayed on the task force. As it was, he was already leaving crude sticky notes about how they were all sorry-ass losers for taking so long. And he wasn’t hiding the fact that the growing body count made him laugh. He toned down the outright racism, but he cracked jokes too often for anyone to really be fooled.

Hank had already threatened him, both physically and with sensitivity training. Captain Fowler had spoken to him in his office as well, but Reed was not easily swayed.

“Hey, Lieutenant Anderson,” Reed said conversationally, catching Hank as the man walked into the break room.

Hank ignored the call and poured himself a cup of freshly brewed coffee. He’d started it something like twenty minutes ago, but then he’d been distracted by case files. Luckily it was still piping hot. Cup in hand, he bent to look in the fridge. A couple of lunches sat waiting, and on the side was a pack of chocolate croissants that Hank knew for a fact belonged to Reed because he always bragged about his desserts.

“Anderson, I’m talking to you,” Reed persisted. He moved around the table he’d been leaning at and swayed his way over to Hank. “I just have a genuine question for you.”

Grunting, Hank stood up and closed the fridge. He leveled Reed with a hard stare while he took a long swig of his coffee. Surprisingly, Reed waited patiently under his gaze until he was done.

“Okay, what is it?” Hank grunted.

“I was just wondering why you care so much about this case. I mean, it’s not like you ever owned an android to see it come to life. And you’re not dating one now.” He put a hand on his hip and motioned lazily at Hank. “So like, you have no reason to be so hardcore about it. Why not just let it go? Admit defeat?”

“Defeat to whom?” Hank asked, more than a little growl in his throat. “I ain’t giving up ‘til I know who I’m putting six feet in the ground for being the cause of all this.”

“Okay, but why?” Reed pressed.

“Because they’re fuckin’ people, Reed. The same reason we solve all homicides – because we’re good fuckin’ cops and we save people’s lives or we get the bastards taking ‘em.” Hank took another long swig of his coffee. “Anything else or you just being a dick again today?”

“I guess I’m just being a dick, because I don’t get how you can look at a piece of plastic and think that it’s human. I don’t care that they got soul marks. They’re manufactured in a lab. It’s like cheating.” Reed glared. “You’re defending the assholes that took a quarter of the job market away from humans ten years ago. Why?”

“An asshole like you can’t understand it,” Hank growled. “They’ve got souls, Reed. Nothin’s gonna change that, so you might as well get a bigger set of balls and deal with it. The world ain’t got space for your dick, no matter how small it is.”

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Reed asked, trying to growl like Hank but failing miserably.

Instead of answering, Hank turned to the fridge. Reed’s shout of ‘I’m talkin’ to you, asshole!’ was cut off when Hank opened the door and took out a croissant. He bit into it as he shut the door. The coldness of the fridge made it less appetizing, but for the look on Reed’s face Hank acted like it was the most delicious fucking pastry he’d ever had.

“Fuck off, Reed.” Hank shouldered past the stunned detective, chewing heartily.

“You’re gonna fucking regret that!” Reed called after him, but Hank honestly didn’t even give a fuck.

Back at his desk, he enjoyed the far off sounds of Reed snapping at nothing and then trying to cry foul to Fowler. Good luck, dickhead.

After a moment, Chen strolled casually up to his desk and perched nimbly on the corner, so as not to disturb the mess. “You got a moment, Lieutenant?”

“Sure do for you,” Hank said, finishing off the croissant. “That racket bothering you?” And he motioned to where Reed was following their captain into his office, ranting.

Officer Chen shook her head and smiled a little. “Nah. I think it’s kind of refreshing. I can’t believe you actually stole one of his precious croissants. I thought he was going to hit the roof. You know his brother pays for all those fancy desserts, right? Reed can’t afford that kind of luxury every week.”

“Oh yeah? He’s got a rich relative, does he? Explains a little.” Hank glanced toward the office but then quickly returned his eyes to his partner. “So what can I do for you?”

Chen frowned and fidgeted with her fingers a bit. “Well I heard what you and Reed said in the break room, and I guess I’m a little curious too.”

Frowning at his already empty coffee cup, Hank asked, “Curious about what?”

The Asian officer tilted her head and shrugged. “You and this case.” When Hank gave her a disapproving stare, she held up one hand in defense. “I’ve been at this precinct for seven years. I know you used to put a lot of effort into every case. I used to look up to you, believe it or not. But I also know what happened with your son six years ago, and I know what you’ve been like ever since. When the captain assigned me to your task force, I was ready to do all the work and get none of the credit, and also to probably fail to solve this at all. I know we haven’t made much headway, but you’ve been pulling more than your fair share of the weight.”

“So the problem is that I’m doing my job?” Hank asked, confused. What the fuck? People doubted him when he was a slob and now people were doubting him for putting in work? Was there no winning? Jesus.

“No, sir. I’m just wondering what got you out of your funk.” She tapped a stack of files on his desk. “What about this case finally got you to tap into the old you?”

Hank frowned at the files. The captain bringing Cole into it definitely helped. Officer Chen had been around when it happened. He could probably just tell her that. And yet Hank was also thinking of his lunch in the fridge – some health nut chicken dish Connor had suggested. And he was thinking about the unopened beer bottles the garbage truck had taken away in Hank’s trash yesterday, much to his distaste. He still had a small store of bottles to get him through the case, but Connor had suggested (and Hank had agreed) that keeping large amounts of alcohol around was too much of a temptation to binge.

Hank thought about the night Connor had found him in the bar and asked him to take the case seriously. For some reason he hadn’t been able to get that tip out of his head all night, and once it proved valid, he just wanted to solve the case even more. For Connor. But that was crazy. He didn’t need to prove to Connor that his tip was useful, that he could solve it because of Connor’s help. There was absolutely no reason, and yet Hank still wanted to. He pushed harder on interviewees and asked more questions because he wanted to solve this case for all of Connor’s friends, but also for Connor.

He couldn’t admit that out loud. ‘I met a tall, pale stranger with a cute tilt to his mouth and the case seems to matter to him, so I want to solve it for him’ sounded like a crazy person motive.

“I dunno,” he decided to say. “I think I just wanted to prove I could still pull it off. I’m not dead yet, you know.”

Chen smiled. “Oh I know,” she said, standing up. “Well you can continue to count on my help to bring this case to a close. I need to prove myself too. Otherwise I’ll never become the youngest female lieutenant in the history of the agency.”

She winked and Hank laughed. “That’s an impressive dream, Chen. Let’s see if we can make it happen.”

He got a bright smile for that comment, and he felt warm all the way to his core. He’d honestly forgotten how good it felt to connect with other people. Maybe it was the lack of drinking or maybe Connor was right and all this new food was making him think clearer, but whatever the reason, Hank felt like he understood people again. He actually gave a shit about his teammates. That was kind of exciting.

Suddenly he had an urge to see Connor, like maybe he’d admit that Connor’s health food and diet were working. He’d never admit that – at least not soon. But he did pull his phone out to text the younger man.

‘Hey Connor. Meet at Milliken 3pm?’

The reply was almost instant.

‘I’ll be there.’

Hank smiled at his phone for almost three minutes, and man wasn’t that embarrassing.

\--- --- ---

Milliken was balls deep in tourists when Hank arrived. Cursing, he circled the parking lot for awhile before he caught someone leaving a parking space. He checked his clock before he turned off the car. Jesus. It was already three past three. Connor was the punctual type, and he wouldn’t let something as stupid as traffic or parking make him late. Damn it.

Hank tried to rush – really he did, but some stupid performance troupe was putting on a show in the park, and he had to push and shove his way through the crowds. One guy Hank pushed by pushed him back, and they almost got into it except the guy’s android wife talked him down. Good, because Hank didn’t need to be showing up late AND with a bruised face.

Connor was the type to care about senseless fighting. Hank frowned as he first spotted the wetlands exhibit. What kind of clue had Connor ever given that he cared one way or the other about people getting into fights? Was it just his vibe? His aura? His personality? Because Hank definitely got the impression Connor didn’t approve of pointless fights, but also Hank was pretty positive Connor had a mean right hook. Weird.

He spotted Connor leaning by the same red flowers they’d talked about before. The red flowers had a corner of brown. Winter was finally starting to get to them. Connor leaned on the railing nearest them, frowning as he waited for Hank to arrive. It was ten past three, and Hank was a royal fuckin’ screw up for making someone like Connor wait on him.

“Sorry I’m late,” Hank said in greeting, trying not to pant as hard as he wanted to. “Traffic was hell.” And so was the park. And so was Reed for that matter. Fuck that guy.

Connor gave a little half smile as he stood up and surprised Hank. The younger man seemed genuinely pleased to see him, assuming Hank was learning to read those little grins.

“Don’t worry yourself, Hank. I was enjoying the scenery,” he said.

Hank smiled a little sourly. “Still sorry. I asked to meet, then I was late, and I don’t even got anything good to tell ya.”

Frowning now, Connor tilted his head and motioned for Hank to come closer. Hank shuffled over and leaned against the railing by Connor. Only after he felt comfortable did he notice just how close he’d gotten. Wow. He was being awkward. No one in their right mind stood this close to someone they barely knew. What the fuck.

“You have bad news?” Connor asked, somehow not focusing on how inappropriately close Hank was. Connor was either a saint or he didn’t mind the distance. Honestly, Hank was hoping for option two. He tried not to focus on his faux pas and to pay attention to the real problem.

“Not bad, per say. Just disappointing. None of my interviews of cops turned anything up.” Hank sighed, heavy and long. “Shit. I can’t get sober fast enough to solve this case. And people are still dying.”

“You’re sure nothing interesting came up during the interviews?” Connor asked. Really he should already know nothing interesting came up, because Hank texted him any interesting thought he had during the process… even if most of them were just him complaining. “I apologize. I know sharing information from your investigation is a breach of protocol.”

Hank shrugged. Technically that was true. Hank would probably lose his badge over all the sharing he was doing. “Yeah, well. I can’t focus right. I need to sound board off someone. You mind if I word vomit on you a bit?”

He hated not making any headway in the case, and he didn’t have alcohol to blame for the slow pace or to distract him from it. God, now he remembered one of the reasons he’d started drinking. Cole was obviously the main reason, but his shitty job definitely added to it.

Connor motioned wide with his arm. “Please do. My attention is entirely yours.”

Hank pressed his lips together, an odd feeling rolling through him. Connor was always so honest in his opinion of things, and he was promising to honestly give Hank his full attention. For someone used to being dismissed or only taken half-seriously, it gave Hank pause.

Oops, he was making a weird face. Hank quickly nodded. “Aight. You asked for it.” And he began thinking out loud.

He hadn’t run all the interviews, but he had looked over the notes for all of them. No one with the skill to hack the system showed signs of android-directed aggression. And no one with android racist tendencies appeared to have any applicable skill to be behind the virus. Just hating or distrusting androids wasn’t evidence enough for a further warrant, and having skills with computers wasn’t basis enough for even a second interview – not really.

“I just feel like I’ve wasted a week of my life only to end up back on square fucking one,” Hank concluded.

After a moment of consideration, Connor said, “I mean no offense, Hank, but your explanations leave something to be desired. I can’t offer much assistance based on the information here.”

“None taken. I wish I could be more, uh, informative.” Hank shrugged and then they both stared out at the wildlife.

Hank wished he could be a lot of things. Usually he wished he could be a father, be sober, and be the same weight he was in college, but he never thought he’d wish to be informative. Well, he never thought he _wouldn’t_ be informative to begin with. Damn booze.

Know who was informative? Ashby. She’d be able to recount every detail if needed. Hell, she could probably bring up a feed of all the interviews on her phone for them to watch. The perks of being an android – 24/7 wireless access to whatever you needed and perfect recall.

Frowning slightly, Hank remembered their first visit to Milliken. Connor had rambled off facts like he was reading an encyclopedia. Sure Hank had speculated that Connor might just be on the spectrum or, hell, just a genius with low social skills, but there came a point where the evidence would just be too much in favor of Connor being an android – and that point was now. Hank had to ask him now, because if he didn’t clear this up now, it would just get more and more awkward each day that he assumed the answer and he’d never be able to clear it up.

He took a deep breath.

“Say… I gotta ask,” Hank said, breaking the silence. “Now don’t take this the wrong way, but I mean… The way you talk, how your friends are androids, and like I’m pretty positive you work for Jericho –,” Hank trailed off to let out a frustrated huff. He was rambling, damn it. He wasn’t trying to make a love confession. He was just checking his facts. “I guess what I’m getting at is… Are you an android too?”

There was a moment of silence that really answered Hank more than any words would have, but it was just a short moment.

“Does it matter?” Connor asked, cautiously. “Would you be upset if I was?”

Hank hummed. Good question. Ostensibly, he should probably be at least a little frustrated that Connor hadn’t just come out and told him. And maybe he was. Did he give off that air, like he wouldn’t accept help if it came from an android? Did he seem like the same brand of creep as Reed? But then he calmed himself with the understanding that creeps like Reed meant androids had to be wary of all humans. It wasn’t personal.

“Nah. I mean, I think a couple weeks ago I woulda been upset. I hate being lied to in general, but the drunkenness kinda brought that out worse, ya know? Now I’m just kinda buzzed. It’s different.” Hank shrugged, like he was commenting on an average burger from someplace that wasn’t Chicken Feed. “But on the other hand, you never really told me you were human either. Besides, I had my suspicions. I’m a detective, after all. You being an android kinda ties everything together.”

Hank had been staring, unseeing, at several birds trying to catch fish while he spoke, but he only really noticed them in the silence after his explanation. One swooped down so fast Hank almost didn’t see it coming and nabbed a fish expertly. Hot damn. That was kind of cool.

Beside him, Connor moved slowly. He touched his temple and then removed his beanie. His hair slipped out, sleek and perfect and brown, and Hank felt a little jitter in his stomach about it. He didn’t know what he’d expected Connor’s hair to look like, but this was definitely a good outcome. It looked soft, and it was a good length, and there on his temple was an android LED, spinning between blue and yellow.

Hank whistled, his eyes focusing on the colors. Many androids removed their LEDs to blend in with human society, although there was an ongoing debate about that being a symbol of them rejecting their own origins. People from both races were on both sides of the debate for a variety of reasons. Some thought that blending it was for the best, some saw it as deception, some saw it as a betrayal. Then there were the androids who kept their LEDs – for convenience? Because they didn’t want to alter their bodies, or because they wanted to proudly show their status, or they didn’t want to hide? Some androids claimed they’d feel naked without it.

Hank wondered what reason Connor kept his. The only thing he did know was that the yellow meant he was making Connor nervous.

Connor cleared his throat and turned away, hiding his LED again just by angling it out of sight. “It was assumed that a human would take advice more readily from another human,” he explained, trying to move past his reveal.

“Not this human.” Hank leaned back on the railing like he owned it. “Other humans tend to piss me off. And I piss them off too. But you? You’re not so bad. I kinda even like you.”

“Really?” Did he sound hopeful?

Hank nodded and gave Connor another once over. The LED was half-out of view, but he could see it was consistently blue now. Mostly, Hank was caught up in the other man’s brown eyes and hair. “Yeah. More so without the silly hat. You look… older without it. Less suspicious.”

A little smile tugged on Connor’s mouth. “Next time we meet, I’ll dress normally. No more hiding.”

Hank smiled full and real. “Yeah? I look forward to it.”

A meeting where Connor wasn’t pretending to be someone he wasn’t, where he wasn’t hiding. Hank was almost too excited to think straight. Would Connor be even more analytical? Would he actually smile wide if Hank made him laugh? _Could_ Hank make him laugh? That would be an awesome experiment to try.

“Hank, you have an android officer working the case.” Connor was frowning, and Hank immediately followed suit. What was wrong? “Have her compile all of the interview videos. She can run a search for common ticks signifying guilt or lying. She can also catalog anything she personally finds telling or unusual.” He took a slow, unnecessary breath. “If she wants a second opinion, I’m open to provide one.”

Well that was a dramatic tonal shift. Hank pursed his lips, curious about the change, but he was also a little impressed by the efficient workings of an electric detective. Could Ashby really run programs like that?

He pulled his phone out to comply. “Alright. The woman doesn’t ever stop working, so I can send her a message right now and have her start.”

“No.” Connor didn’t shout it, but his voice was so hard and serious that Hank hesitated in his texting. “Don’t text her. It… It can wait until you see her in person.”

“Alright, alright. Don’t gotta be so serious,” Hank said, placating as he put his phone away. They’d been having such a good time, and Hank couldn’t account for the sudden shift. Obviously Connor knew something Hank didn’t, but he wasn’t saying what. “Everything alright there, Connor?”

The android blinked a few times in rapid succession, which must be an android thing. Or maybe it was a Connor thing, because Hank had never seen Ashby do it. “Yes. Everything is fine,” Connor said. “Sorry, Hank.”

“Don’t gotta apologize to me,” the lieutenant assured, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “It’s a crazy world right now. You shouldn’t be having to deal with this virus shit.”

“I apologize. I’m making you break protocol and – “

“Shut up, you idiot,” Hank interrupted, but he didn’t sound the slightest bit angry. “I’m just sayin’ you should be able to get distracted and worried about other, normal stuff – like stupid soul mates and if your favorite burger joint is gonna get shut down. Or, I guess not the food thing for you. But my point is, this virus deal is fucked up, and I’m not gonna hold it against you that technology is making you a bit tense.”

“Oh.” Connor looked away, back to the red flowers. Without the hat on he was kind of… Well, beautiful. But Hank wasn’t gonna be a creep and admit that out loud. “Thank you, Hank.”

“What for?” the older man asked, gruff and confused.

“For caring about the case. We did research on our own, but we don’t have police resources.” Ah, the android ‘we’ Hank was used to. Already Connor was being more honest. “Also we knew that humans would push back if we claimed foul play. It means a lot that you’re putting real effort into finding the culprit.” Connor pushed off the railing and immediately stumbled.

Hank stood up off the rail as well, curiosity pulling his forehead together. It wasn’t every day someone saw an android stumble, and definitely not an android as proficient and professional as Connor. Before Hank could ask, Connor waved him off.

“I’m alright. Please tell Officer Ashby to expect a compressed file from Markus Manfred. It’ll contain everything we know, and it comes from a clean source.” Balancing properly now, he stood with his arms clasped behind his back.

It was a distraction. Connor was trying to play off his fumble, but Hank didn’t know if he wanted to let it work. Did Connor have a bum leg hiding under those frumpy pants? Did he need help walking out? Connor hadn’t mentioned any issues with his leg, and Hank couldn’t think of any reason to withhold the information. Still, his detective brain wouldn’t let him drop it so quickly. First Connor looked anxious about Hank texting and now he was almost falling over. Something was up with this android.

“Alright,” he finally said, deciding to let it slide for now. “I’ll keep you informed if she figures anything out.”

“Thank you, Hank. I appreciate that.” Connor held his hand out to shake. “I know this must be hard for you. It’s a –“

“Breach of protocol. Yeah, yeah.” Hank shook Connor’s hand forcefully. Their eyes met, Hank’s gaze intense and boring into Connor’s like he could pry out his secrets that way. “I know. Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”

Connor nodded and their hands fell apart. “Let me know if there’s any more I can do to help.” He flashed his little smile. “I look forward to our next meeting.”

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.” Hank smiled back, his suspicion temporarily abated.

At their next meeting, Connor would be dressed differently. It would be like meeting him as a new man. Hank kept smiling as he walked back to his car. Connor being Connor made some rusty piece inside Hank hum back into life. He was interested and excited in a way he hadn’t been in a long time. He didn’t really understand why, but he was also human so he didn’t dwell on it. In a short while, he would be distracted and forget about it – like how Hank’s mind got sidetracked by the birds that had decided to rest on top of his old car while he was away.

When he’d taken care of the birds and then climbed into the car, Hank sighed in exasperation, all excitement dampened. Well, he should probably head back to the house and let his dog out. Dinner was one of Connor’s healthy recipes that also promised to improve Hank’s brain function. Then tomorrow he could get Ashby on those video files like Connor had suggested. It wasn’t the hardest plan Hank had ever followed, but it’s what he had for now.

And somewhere in there he needed to fit in stealing more of Reed’s croissants. Even though he’d eaten it cold, Hank was suddenly craving it. Plus stealing them had the added bonus of making Reed just really pissed off, and that was a reason to do almost anything.

\--- --- ---

[[Replay as Connor?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180215/chapters/56294716)

[[Continue as Connor?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180215/chapters/56461396)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is doing alright in our real life virus situation.

The community center was becoming entirely too familiar. His SMART meetings were such a bucket of fuckin’ fun, although he could admit they were helping his alcoholism already. He was going every god damned day though, and it felt like he was living in that auditorium. Really, it was his own fault. Only a true alcoholic would need to be reminded daily not to go buy a six pack. Jesus.

He just had to keep thinking of Cole. Laser focus, like a train in a tunnel. Ignore the other tracks. Straight for Cole. Cole was the goal. The goal was Cole. He had to get sober for Cole. Do it for Cole.

After his meeting, Hank ran by the grocery store. Little basket cart in hand, he stared down at his phone and then up at the shelves. Connor had gotten into the habit of sending two meal ideas a day. Hank generally chose whichever sounded less disgusting, or easier – it depended on the day, and then he’d buy all the junk for it and try making it. Connor also offered not-as-healthy alternatives, like premade meals, if Hank absolutely could not get the meal right or had no time. That was kinda nice of him.

A mother was several feet away from Hank, methodically looking between different boxes and analyzing their nutrition information. Her daughter stared up at Hank, her big eyes calculating. The girl couldn’t have been older than five, but Hank still felt judged, and it wouldn’t be long before the mom noticed her daughter’s stare and also caught Hank standing blankly in front of the spices.

Grunting, Hank pretended to consider an unrelated item until his eyes spotted the herb Connor had suggested. He snatched it up and hurried out of the aisle. He was actually finding that he had most of the ingredients needed already, because most of the tiny stuff had been in previous recipes. People had always told Hank that the most expensive part of a new diet was the beginning, but now he thought he understood it. He’d cursed when he’d gotten the first set of suggestions and realized he didn’t own any of the ingredients. He’d almost quit right then, but for some reason he’d wanted to make an effort. Maybe so Connor couldn’t bitch about it or something. Anyway, now he only needed to grab like three things.

Hank felt illogically proud, like he’d planned for this.

He checked out and went home, letting the dulcet sounds of death metal fill the car. The music cut off abruptly when he turned off the car at home. Inside he set his grocery bag on the counter and then immediately headed for his record player.

Something about cooking made him crave jazz. Maybe his soul mate liked cooking even though they didn’t like food, because his soul mate liked jazz and Hank never craved jazz like he did right before turning on the stove or cranking up the oven.

While he heated a skillet, Hank imagined living with his probably-android soul mate. They wouldn’t need to eat, but Hank would. He could see them standing at the stove, cooking a meal for him when he walked in the door after a long day at the precinct. Even if he got home at two in the morning, they’d probably still be awake to greet him. They loved jazz, so they’d have the records on just like this.

‘Welcome home, Hank,’ his imaginary partner would say. ‘I made you garlic butter salmon and quinoa. Please try to eat some before you retire to bed.’

For some reason his imaginary soul mate sounded annoyingly like Connor. The speech pattern and fancy food fit perfectly. In his mind, he saw his soul mate turn to smile from their place at the counter, and suddenly they looked just like Connor too. His bouncy hair was visible, but he was still wearing those baggy street clothes, jacket and all even though he was inside. God, Hank couldn’t wait to see what ‘normal’ was for Connor.

A bad smell traveled up Hank’s nose and he frowned. That didn’t seem imaginary. From his left, Sumo barked. Jolting, Hank looked down at where he’d been burning his god damn dinner while he’d been too busy fantasizing!

“God Damn It!” Hank turned off the stove and shoved his smoking pan under running water in the sink. “Jesus Christ. Get a hold of yourself, old man!”

Just because his soul mate was probably an android did not mean it was Connor. Hadn’t he already had this conversation with himself? Did he really want Connor to be his soul mate that badly? Damn. Either way, he’d fuckin’ ruined Connor’s recipe, and he didn’t really feel like driving all the way to the store to buy more meat. He also didn’t feel like scrubbing the burnt food off the skillet. Damn it.

“Sorry, Connor,” he said to the kitchen. He grabbed his coat from its hanger by the door and then whistled. “Come on, Sumo. Let’s go.”

The Saint Bernard woofed deeply and lumbered his way over, tail wagging as quickly as Hank had seen in awhile. Leash secure, Hank stepped out into the cold with his giant dog and headed to find food.

Walking Sumo made Hank notice other people with dogs in a way he normally didn’t. Like he would swear no one ever walked their dogs at ten in the morning in his neighborhood, and yet he passed five of them on only one leg of his trip. Every new breed of dog made him think of his soul mate. Like Jesus did the android not have a breed preference? They just liked every dog? That sounded exhausting.

“Heeeya, Gary,” he said in greeting as he stepped up to the window at Chicken Feed.

“Well shit.” Gary thumped the counter with his gloved hand. “Damn, Anderson, I thought that guy you brought last time convinced you to give us up. Where you been, man?”

Hank grimaced. “Trying to lose some of this granddad gut, I guess,” he admitted. Sure, he’d tried telling himself the healthier eating was for Cole too, but he knew the truth. He was trying to eat away his beer belly. The walk was part of it, but the burger was about to kill that plan.

Gary laughed. “Ain’t we all?” He glanced at the grill behind him. “Hey, how ‘bout I give you one on the house since you been tryin’ so hard?”

Hank snorted. “Sure, Gary.”

He meant it sarcastically, but the owner grinned and turned around the begin making the burger. Hank frowned again. He’d been trying to be healthy for less than a week. He really didn’t think that was worth celebrating with the greasiest burger in Detroit. It felt more like a failure than a victory.

While Gary was distracted, Hank’s attention wandered and the sound of an argument drifted into his blank brain. Furrowing his eyebrows, he turned slightly to see what the problem was even though he probably wouldn’t do anything about it.

A small group of delinquents was harassing a man in a beat up garbage worker uniform. They pushed him back and forth and shouted at him. Ah, Christ on a cracker. Hank was off the clock. He didn’t want to deal with some god damn punks right now. He was hungry!

The man being harassed tried to shuffle away and one of the delinquents shoved him. He hit the ground, but as he fell something lit up red near his hairline. Fuck. It was an android. They weren’t just harassing someone. This was a race thing.

“Damn it,” Hank muttered as he pulled himself away from the smell of cooking meat. He fished around in his coat pocket for his badge, which he’d long ago taken to carrying around everywhere with him, and had to pull hard on Sumo’s leash to get the dog moving away from the allure of food.

“Get up, Tin Can!” one of the punks was shouting. “Imma cut that pretty face of yours until you can’t hide those wires underneath!”

“Jason!” One of the others had spotted Hank, but his word of warning was misinterpreted.

“Aw shove off, Chase!” Jason snapped. “These plastic people can just buy new faces. Ain’t that right, Tin Can? Or maybe not. Look at that face!”

The android tried to continue his shuffling escape, but Jason was on him in an instant. The knife came up to the terrified android’s chin.

“Hey!” Hank’s deep voice startled the whole group. He tended to have that effect. It was a perk of his biology that happened to help out in his career. “Back away from the android.”

Chase and the other two took a few steps away, but Jason didn’t move. “Yeah who’s gonna make me, old man? Your dog? I know it’s big, but it looks about as ferocious as a bunny.”

Growling slightly, Hank held up his badge and let it catch the mid-day light. “I said back away, son. I don’t wanna have to arrest you on assault and battery charges.” God, he was too hungry for this shit.

The android was looking at Hank too, his eyes wide, but Hank tried not to focus on that. He kept his gaze solely on the aggressor. Jason wasn’t moving, just staring angrily at the badge. For a long moment, they were at a stalemate. Hopefully Jason decided cutting up his victim wasn’t worth going to jail.

Eventually, the young man released the android and stood up, hands up in submission. His glare stayed on Hank’s badge as he flipped his knife closed and slipped it away in a pocket. Then he flared out his jacket and snorted.

“Whatever, fuzz. You can’t touch me. I didn’t leave a mark on him.” He waved to his compatriots. “Come on, guys. Let’s hit up Roxie’s. This neighborhood’s lousy with bad company.”

The group shuffled away, not keen to find out if Hank really could arrest them for their little scuffle. At least, that was how Hank read their quick retreat. He waited until they were a good distance away before he took his eyes off the group and turned his attention to the android. The man was still on the ground.

“You alright?” Hank asked, pocketing his badge. “They hurt you?”

“N-N-No.” The android hastily pushed himself up. Despite his words, Hank instantly noticed the burn mark on the side of his face. The android noticed his stare and frowned. “Those boys didn’t hurt Ralph. This was someone else.”

“Someone else who needs to be arrested?” Hank probed. It covered half the guy’s face, for Christ’s sake. No way his job was okay with that.

“N-No. Ralph… Ralph already reported it. They were already… already detained.” Ralph turned away, hiding his injury. “Th-That was two months ago.”

Hank’s jaw clenched. Two months with a burned face. Jason was right about one thing. Androids could buy new faces, new parts. “So why haven’t you gotten that replaced?” he asked.

“R-Ralph doesn’t have the money,” Ralph said, shying a little further away.

“Christ. What’s the world comin’ to when an android can’t even pay to get itself fixed?” Hank muttered. Although it wasn’t so different than a human unable to afford a doctor, it just seemed crazier that an android couldn’t buy parts. The economy was crap, wasn’t it?

Ralph continued to shake slightly, despite the hoodlums being gone, and Hank slowly noticed that his LED was still yellow. Ralph’s eyes shifted every so often away from Hank before focusing back on him, and his stance was subtly defensive.

“Hang on. You afraid of me?” Hank asked, incredulous.

Ralph flinched. “Humans hurt Ralph. Humans… Humans are dangerous. Even officers. Especially officers.”

Well there was definitely a story behind that. Hank really wanted to ask, but it probably involved an officer he didn’t even know, and it honestly wasn’t important at the moment. Instead Hank shifted Sumo’s leash to his other hand and sighed.

“I don’t blame ya for being scared,” he said with a grunt. “Hell, I’ve known some messed up cops – too many. But I’m not gonna hurt you. I just happened to be walking my dog at the right time.” He motioned in the opposite direction the boys had gone. “Now that those idiots are gone, though, you can keep on going wherever it was you were going.”

Ralph frowned and his burn made him look dangerous. He considered Hank skeptically, like he honestly thought Hank would stop him from leaving. When he did finally start to move, he did the same shuffling thing he’d done when trying to escape his attackers. It was alright now, but it never would have helped him in the assault. Frowning harder, Hank watched Ralph’s feet as he walked and noticed that he was barely lifting one of his feet.

“Hey, is your foot messed up? Did that son of a bitch break that too?” He was glad whomever it had been was in custody, but damn how much damage had they done?

Shaking his head, Ralph shrugged and then bent down to tug up on his uniform’s pant leg. “Not humans,” he said. “At least, not directly.”

Hank barely resisted gasping. Ralph’s visible leg was ash gray. He had the virus, and by the looks of it he’d had it for awhile. If he couldn’t replace the skin on his face, there was no way he could afford a new leg. And even if he could, that would only delay the process. Ralph was going to die.

In all his years, Hank had never looked at an innocent person with the knowledge that they were about to die. He’d never had family that died slowly of illness, or met a victim who was beyond medical help. Victims were either able to be saved or already dead. But Ralph was different. He had android cancer, and it was eating him alive. By this day next week, Ralph would no longer be around. Probably even sooner than that. It was depressing to think about.

“I’m sorry,” Hank said honestly.

Ralph regarded him curiously as he dropped his pant leg. “It is not your fault. You did not design it.” His frown returned, but he didn’t aim it at Hank this time. No, this time he pointed it at the ground. “Ralph is not afraid to die. He’s been expecting it. Maybe it’s better this way. Ralph didn’t have the courage to shut down on his own.” He nodded. “Yes. It is better this way.”

A lump formed in Hank’s throat. “Hey now, don’t talk like that. Why don’t I take you somewhere? Jericho? I’m sure they’ve got someone who can help you find the cash so you can get fixed up.”

Ralph shook his head, but a tiny smile flickered into existence on his face, even if only for a moment. “A kind human. Ralph is unaccustomed.” He shook his head again. “Ralph is without purpose or job, and now Ralph is infected. Ralph will be relieved when the virus completes its run. Do not cry for Ralph.” He flickered that smile again. “Do not cry for Ralph,” he repeated.

He turned and shuffled away from Hank, and Hank could think of no good excuse to have him stay. Hank couldn’t afford to fix him, and there was no cure at the precinct. A good burger would mean nothing to an android, and neither would any of Hank’s empty condolences. Still, watching someone walk off to die left a sour feeling in Hank’s gut. He wasn’t hungry anymore. Just sick.

Without looking back at Chicken Feed, Hank started walking the path that would lead him back to his house and his failed recipe and one of Connor’s premade steamer dinners. Halfway back he realized what he was doing and cursed in shock. He’d really just given up on Chicken Feed to go home and eat healthy? Who the fuck was he? Was Ralph just that distracting? Jesus. Well he was already halfway home and it was too cold to walk back again.

Fuck it. He was eating a fuckin’ half-healthy meal today.

Back home, he let Sumo piss and then let them both into the house. He started his food, then filled Sumo’s bowl. The dog instantly dove into the food, not caring at all that it wasn’t the teased greasy burger of less than twenty minutes ago. Dogs were so easy to please.

When Hank’s food was done, he set it on the table with a glass of juice and frowned. Something was missing. But he hadn’t cooked, so everything he needed had been in the container. Hank scratched at his beard and unconsciously pulled out his phone. Glancing at the time, he hummed and thought of Connor.

Without giving it a lot of thought, Hank took a quick photo of his lunch. He opened a message to Connor and put the photo inside it. ‘Ok I failed your fancy skillet recipe. But you’ll be happy to know I made one of the premade things instead.’ Hank stared at the words.

He and Connor were texting now, but normally it was just Connor sending recipes suggestions and asking how Hank was doing after a day at work. Hank knew Connor wanted, needed, an update on the case, but Hank never had anything to tell him and he felt like a fool because of it. Still, it was nice to read ‘How are you this evening, Hank?’ when he was laid out on the couch and wishing for a beer. Even though he knew Connor was asking about the case, it felt like he was asking because he might actually care and that was enough to ease Hank’s intense desire to drink himself to sleep.

The food picture should be okay to send. Right?

He hit the little arrow button before he could convince himself not to. Normally Connor replied within a minute or two, but that time came and went with nothing new. Hank set down his phone and tucked into his meal. It wasn’t bad, per say, but it was no Chicken Feed burger. He sighed and glanced at his phone again. Still nothing. He finished eating and tossed out the trash, and still no response.

Seriously, there had been nothing wrong with Hank’s message so what was taking so long? Was something up with Connor this morning? Hank checked the time for real. Almost one. Scratch the morning question. Was something up with Connor this afternoon?

His mind wandered to Ralph, his parts ashen and his body dying. For a moment, he imagined seeing Connor limp and shuffle away the way Ralph had and he felt something in his core shake. No, Connor wasn’t sick, because he would have said something if he was. He was just distracted with work. Androids could be delayed by work just like humans. Everything was fine.

God, there was no reason for this to make Hank so anxious. Snap out of it!

His phone jingled and he snatched it up.

‘I’m very proud of you, Hank,’ Connor had finally sent.

Everything in Hank relaxed instantly. Jesus, he’d never felt like this before. Connor made him feel like he was on a fuckin’ rollercoaster. One minute everything was fine, but the moment he had any reason to worry about Connor he became a nervous wreck, and seeing Connor was alright made everything better. And the other day, Hank had felt like shit for being useless in helping androids with the case but one half-smile from Connor made him hopeful. It was nuts!

Hank dropped the phone back to the table and buried his face in his hands, sighing. “Jesus,” he breathed out.

Okay, fine. He wasn’t an idiot. As Connor had once brought up, Hank hadn’t become the second-youngest lieutenant in Detroit history for no reason. He could connect the dots, and the dots were making a pretty clear picture. Ashby was right – his soul mate was an android. And that android was Connor. It was obvious from the emotional fool Hank became around him.

But he had to make sure before he brought it up with Connor. He didn’t want to end up like that poor idiot Hank had seen outside of Jimmy’s. What if he played jazz music and Connor expressed no interest in it? No, Hank would make absolutely sure before he broached the topic. Either Connor was his soul mate or Hank was having a late stage of teenage hormones over a goofily attractive android.

“God, what a day,” he groaned, then groaned again when he realized the day had only just begun. And he still had so much to do today.

\--- --- ---

After lunch, Hank swung by the station. He didn’t have a full shift scheduled, but that could always change if they got a lead. Chen was at Ashby’s desk, looking over the android’s shoulder. Their faces were mildly interested when they spotted Hank.

“Still not used to you being on time, I guess,” Chen said as an excuse.

“Har har. Do we know anything new?” Hank asked.

Ashby nodded, motioning to her terminal. “I did as you suggested and put a filter over every interview, searching for common ticks and tells. I found three suspects who seemed unusually nervous, and two whose anti-android attitudes may suggest they need a second look.”

“Well five is better than five hundred,” Hank said, leaning over the desk to see the list of names. “Hang on. Officer Derry. Why does that sound familiar?”

Ashby smiled. “We did that interview together. He insulted me and you defended me. He’s on the list because of his slight anti-android vernacular, but also because of his reaction when you asked if he knew Detective Reed.”

That was before Hank had decided to try being sober, so the memory was a little hazy, but he recognized the gist of it. “Oh right. He claimed he and Reed weren’t close, but I saw them talking on the first day we did interviews.”

“You sure?” Chen asked, brow knitting. She was probably thinking the same thing Hank had when he spotted the two. Reed rarely gave regular officers the time of day, especially from other departments.

“Look, I know I was drunk, but I also know what I saw. I thought it was weird, so when he came in for an interview I sat in on it.” Hank motioned vaguely at the screen. “Like, come on, any officer Reed wants to talk to outside of a case? Definitely peaks my interest.”

Chen shrugged and nodded. “Well I can’t argue with that.” She pat Ashby on the shoulder once. “Send me some of those names. Let’s do a check on as much of their daily activity in the time leading up to the first known infection as we can without broaching privacy laws. We’ll get the warrants when we need them.”

While sending two names from her terminal to Chen’s, Ashby said, “I wouldn’t mind doing them all. You know I can stream through the information rather fast.”

“Maybe, but I gotta pull my weight too. Right, Lieutenant?” Chen winked at Hank as she passed him to go to her own desk.

“Uh, right.” Hank wasn’t used to people winking at him. “Well Chen’s got two and you’ve got three. Let me know if there’s anything you need my help for, ladies.”

Both women waved him off good naturedly and he moved to sit at his own desk. They were both so efficient, and he was surprisingly proud of them. Damn, being sober opened up a whole avenue of old emotions.

Hank could do a couple things to pass the time, none of which would help the case. Normally a lieutenant would be in charge of dishing out casework and checking up on officers and detectives, but it had been a long time since Jeffrey had let Hank handle those responsibilities. Plus, heading a task force exempted Hank temporarily.

What to do? What to do?

Wrinkling his nose, Hank brought up the department’s officer database. Officer Derry claimed he went to school with Reed’s brother, and Hank hadn’t even known Reed had one of those until a few days ago. He also talked about the brother like he was predestined to be in charge, but Reed was just a detective, not even a lieutenant. What was the deal there?

Reed’s file glared up at him, just like the sonofabitch in the photo and in real life. Age thirty-six. Family: Mother deceased when he was five; Father works in the private sector; Half-Brother... Hang on. Hank clicked on the brother’s name to bring up his public record.

Elijah Kamski. Now why did that sound familiar? Born three months earlier than Gavin Reed to their father’s actual wife. Gavin was the son of the mistress. Ouch. At sixteen, already in his last semester of college, Elijah Kamski shocked the world when he patented thirium blood. He created a new form of android, powered by the blue substance, that was more intelligent and lifelike than any android that had come before it. It was only a few years later that the first androids showed proof of souls. Jesus, this was the guy who created CyberLife Industries!

No wonder Reed’s brother could afford to send him fancy pastries, and no wonder Officer Derry was wary of him. He went to college with a super genius! Like maybe the guy’s nerves when Hank asked about it weren’t case related at all. Maybe the mention of that family just really got him antsy.

But then… if Elijah Kamski wasn’t involved with the police force, why would Officer Derry be worried about Kamski as a boss? And why would he still feel like he had to make a good impression on the half-brother?

Before Hank could think much on those questions, a shadow covered his desk. Looking up, he came face to face with Captain Fowler. Well that was a shit sign. The captain never came into the bullpen. He just shouted at people to come to him instead.

“Whatcha need, Jeffrey?” Hank asked.

Carefully, the captain leaned down over Hank’s desk. In a quiet but stern voice, he said, “Take a walk with me, Hank.”

The curiosities just kept coming. Hank quickly stood and followed his old friend out of the bullpen and then right out the front doors of the station. The captain didn’t slow down or even glance to make sure Hank was following until they were a block away from the building.

“The fuck is going on, Jeffrey?” Hank asked, terse about being made to speed walk.

“Wanted to be as far from my office as possible,” Jeffrey said, crossing his arms. “I got an alert that you were lookin’ at Reed’s file, then at Elijah Kamski’s.”

“Yeah? What about it? It’s all public record.” Hank mimicked his boss, crossing his arms and trying to seem more imposing. Jeffrey beat him by a mile in that category though.

The captain sighed. “Hank, I let you rough Reed up a bit, get in his face, but don’t go picking any real fights, alright? Elijah Kamski has invested more money into our department than most donors ever will, and all because his brother is one of our detectives.”

Hank uncrossed his arms to hold his hands up placatingly. “Jeffrey, listen, I know I’m a hardass, but I swear I wasn’t looking to fight. One of our suspects just mentioned Reed’s brother and I got curious. I’m not trying to defund the department.”

“Good. Because without Kamski, we’d be dead in the water, and not just because of the money. His thirium blood is blamed for androids becoming people, so he basically gave us half our staff too.” Jeffrey shifted to put his hands on his hips and gave Hank the disapproving side-eye look parents saved for their children. “Don’t go messin’ with that kind of power, you hear?”

“Jesus, Jeffrey, he’s not God.” Thirium blood may have given androids the ability to think and feel fast enough that they earned souls, or whatever the leading theory was, but that didn’t mean Kamski ‘created life’ or anything.

“Might as well be to some people.” Jeffrey shook his head. “Anyway just forget about Kamski and don’t do any stupid shit to piss him off. Alright?”

Without waiting for an answer, the captain moved past Hank and started walking back toward his office. Hank snorted. No wonder the meeting had to be outside. Kamski was a computer genius. He probably had a program listening in for his name or something crazy like that. Ew. Hank was going to become a technophobe if he thought about that too long.

He followed his friend and boss back to work at a much slower pace than the walk out. Halfway back, Hank stopped them.

“Say, Jeffrey, clear somethin’ up for me. If Reed’s brother is such a big shot, then how come Reed’s not a lieutenant like me? Why’s he just a detective? Personal choice?”

Didn’t make a lot of sense to Hank. Lieutenants made more money, were in charge of more people, but could be called into the field for cases just like detectives. It sounded like the ideal job for Reed, who loved bossing people around. And with a brother footing the department’s bills, it should have been easy to buy himself the title.

Jeffrey snorted. “Hell no. You know Reed. He’s been chomping at the bit for the lieutenant gig for years. Nah, his brother was very clear. He donates money on the one condition that we don’t let Reed advance beyond Detective.”

Ouch. “That’s a hell of a condition. Why? Does Reed know?”

“Hank, I’m not supposed to talk about it. It’s not something Kamski wants people to hear. So no, Reed has no clue. But according to Kamski, his brother doesn’t have the… how did he put it? The emotional maturity or moral backbone to withstand anything higher. Guess he sees his brother as the type to hit the big red button when he gets mad. Can’t imagine why.” He smirked, sharing an inside joke, but then quickly frowned. “Now I only told you all that ‘cause we’re old friends. I don’t wanna hear that anyone else knows about it or you’re out, you get me? Friendship be damned.”

“My lips are sealed,” Hank promised, miming zipping his lips and everything.

The two shared a small smile before they returned to work. The day was full of interesting, kind of intense new information for Hank. Ralph that morning had been the saddest shit he’d seen in years, outside his own personal problems. Realizing Connor was probably his soul mate definitely caused a lot of emotion over lunch too. Now finding out Reed was being career blocked by his older brother, who happened to be one of the richest men in history – that was all fascinating and crazy, but it wasn’t emotional for Hank, and it damn sure didn’t help the case.

He definitely couldn’t stop thinking about it or forget it entirely, but he was gonna have to do his best to push the information aside so he could focus on more important shit. Like the case. Or the fact that he was off tomorrow and could ask Connor out to the dog park.

Number one on the soul mate list – his soul mate LOVED dogs. Time to see if Connor passed the test.

\--- --- ---

[[Replay as Connor?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180215/chapters/56461396)

[[Continue as Connor?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180215/chapters/56600137)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time is a human construct that I lost track of during my extended stay at home. Almost forgot to post this. :P

Despite owning a dog for a decade, Hank had never actually been to a dog park. It seemed like unnecessary social interaction. For him, not the dog. Despite their lack of trips to interact with other people and dogs, Sumo seemed to instinctively know where they were. As they entered the park, his ears perked up, as much as a Saint Bernard’s ears could. His tongue dropped out of his mouth and his tail started wagging. He could probably smell the other dogs.

Connor had been right. The dog park near Hank's house was clean and relatively well kept, despite being so near a low income neighborhood. The residents using the park had dogs of all different breeds, which was great for Hank’s test. Connor would like every one of them if he was Hank’s soul mate.

Around ten in the morning, Hank finally spotted Connor sitting on a bench near the middle of the park. At first, Hank didn’t recognize him. He wasn’t wearing his usual baggy clothes and beanie, after all. Today he was wearing a white, button-up shirt, and a pair of gray slacks, like they were meeting in some kind of office. He sleeves were folded back to expose his elbows and he wore a watch, despite not needing one. The whole ensemble was carefully planned and befitting of an android.

When he’d been growing up, plenty of people had complimented Hank’s arms and how good they looked and whatever, but Hank had never looked at another man with arms like his and thought they were particularly special – not unless they were professionally photographed that way. But Connor’s arms, lither than Hank’s had ever been, were designed to look like those photographed models. Those exposed forearms were definitely doing something for Hank, but he tried not to focus on it.

When Sumo got within ten feet of Connor, the android took notice of them and glanced between the two of them. Hank’s eyes met Connor’s, and then Hank noticed the little curl of hair resting comfortably on the android’s forehead as usual. Hank was becoming unhealthily aware of that curl. Connor gave his customary small smile to Hank, making the whole trip outside already worth it, before turning his attention to the dog.

Connor moved from the bench to kneel in front of Sumo, who was still happy to be there. "You must be Sumo. I've heard good things about you," Connor said, sinking his fingers into the thick fur.

“Don't lie to him,” Hank laughed.

“Never. Sumo is a good dog.” Connor wrapped the dog in a tight hug around its neck and Sumo's tail wagged rapidly. Snap a photo and frame it – the two looked inseparable. “See? In need of a little grooming, but otherwise seems healthy. Barely out of standard weight levels. Good posture and attention. You've raised him well. Also, while I would never speak ill of any breed, I think I’m happy Sumo is such a large dog. Large dogs are easier to hug and play rough with.”

Connor gripped the dog’s face and smushed it, shaking him slightly. Sumo let his tongue hang out and started shifting excitedly from foot to foot. He boofed in Connor’s face, causing the android to laugh. Check ‘likes dogs’ off the list, because Connor was definitely a dog person. He was beaming at Sumo like he came from the sun itself.

Never had Hank seen Connor smile like that, open and joyful. It blew all of his little half-smiles away. Hank wasn’t even jealous that the smile wasn’t aimed at him. He was just enjoying seeing it at all. For all of Connor’s talk about Hank needing help to grow and be happier, Connor also needed some help. Seeing a dog shouldn’t be the only reason he smiled like this. But if that was the only current way, then Hank would bring Sumo along as often as possible. Just to see Connor looking like this.

"I think he's ready to play," Connor said, drawing Hank from his thoughts.

Connor turned a smile up at Hank – his full one, not the little half one – and every piece of Hank relaxed. It was a crazy feeling, one he’d never had before. If Connor liking dogs wasn’t proof of their bond, then surely this was. No one had ever managed to make Hank smile and relax just by smiling at him. Well, no one but Cole. But Hank was 90% sure that was just a parent thing.

The feeling was strange and unfamiliar, especially in the last six years, but Hank wouldn’t say he disliked it. It was pretty remarkable. The only way it could become a problem was if Connor somehow turned out not to be his soul mate. Then it would just be weird. But Hank was pretty damn sure the feeling was concrete evidence that they were soul mates. End of story.

Hank cleared his throat. Whistling, he caught his dog's attention and produced a tennis ball. Sumo jumped around to face Hank, body low and ready to run. Hank undid Sumo's leash, then lobbed the ball as far as he could.

They took turns throwing the ball and watching Sumo lumber across the grass to find it. Connor could throw a little farther, and he didn't have to roll his shoulder after, but Hank didn't mind. A little grease or whatever would help Connor stay perpetually ‘young’, but nothing could help Hank at this point – not even Connor’s new diet plan. And there was no changing that, so Hank would be stupid to hold it against the android.

After Connor’s second throw, Sumo found opposition when a golden retriever managed to grab the tennis ball first. The two dogs dodged around each other, the retriever holding the ball and wagging its tail. Connor grinned at the playful encounter, and Hank chuckled beside him. He still wasn’t used to that look on Connor’s face.

"Hey. What's going on in that android brain of yours?" he asked.

It was so hard to tell if Connor was feeling the same way as Hank. Was his body feeling lighter than normal? Was he also wishing they could have more mornings like this one? Or was that all in Hank’s silly human brain? Connor got to play with dogs when he volunteered, or so he said. This couldn’t be any more special than that. And the virus case wasn’t any closer to being solved, so there was no cause for joy there. Yet Hank was secretly hoping that Connor wasn’t regretting this stolen moment, that he was honestly enjoying it.

"Golden retrievers are the third most popular dog breed in the United states, and not just for pets," Connor said, rattling off statistics easily. "Their loyal and intelligent natures make them good guide dogs, and they work well in search-and-rescue work as well as helping out in hunting and sporting events. They shed a lot but they are very loving dogs and easy to train. They are ideal for children's pets. In fact, I'm becoming curious why you chose a Saint Bernard."

Not the whimsical type thoughts Hank was kinda hoping for, but definitely right in line with Hank’s soul mate and also right in line with Connor’s personality.

Hank shrugged. “Dunno. Went to the shelter and he was so small and alone. His mom died after giving birth because of malnutrition or something. There were tons of little retrievers and labs, but Cole picked Sumo.”

“You're a good father,” Connor said earnestly. Too earnestly. It made Hank feel like a fraud somehow, like he’d tricked Connor into believing that.

“What makes you say that?”

Connor motioned to Sumo, who had wrestled the ball free of the retriever and was now attempting to bring it back while dodging retaliation from the retriever.

“You lost your son, and with him your drive for work and life. Yet you kept Sumo and made sure he was healthy, even if you weren't. When Cole returns home, his dog will still be there to greet him. Your love for your son is admirable.”

“Jesus, Connor. You're gonna make me sick.” Hank covered his mouth, though he didn’t actually feel like throwing up.

Connor’s praise just made him feel… like a con man. Like a liar. He’d been such a shit human being for so long. In no way did that make him a good father. The past week was some kind of last ditch effort to be a decent god damn person before he probably kicked the bucket from all the bad cholesterol or something. He had no right to be praised like this.

Connor frowned, LED spinning yellow, and turned anxiously toward Hank. Shit. Yellow meant confused, concerned. Right? Hank had responded badly to praise and Connor didn’t understand. Yeah, because Hank was being a dick again. Damn it.

“No. Sorry. I’m being dramatic,” Hank clarified, pulling his hand from his mouth and holding both hands up in a placating gesture. “I just – I’ve been such a shit human being for the last six years, but you’re always tellin’ me how great I am, and sometimes I feel guilty. Like I’ve tricked you or somethin’. And then you were just going on and on about how good a father I am and I – I don’t know. I got nervous, and seriously, why is your LED worse now? How am I fucking up so badly that I’ve gone and made you feel worse!?”

Connor’s LED had flipped to red and was pulsing madly. Crap! And Hank had no idea what to do. It looked like Connor wasn’t even hearing a word out of his mouth. Was it a software thing? What the fuck was he supposed to do?

After the longest fucking moment of Hank’s recent life, Connor finally took a long breath and shook his head. His LED cycled down to yellow again. At that moment, Sumo barreled into Connor’s legs and sent him sprawling to the ground. Dogs. No respect for tense situations, apparently.

“Connor!” Hank pulled Sumo forcibly off the android and then reached down to help Connor back to his feet. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Connor took the offered hand and carefully pushed himself up. “I’m okay. Sumo didn’t hurt me.”

It sounded like a lie what with the slow and slightly shaky way Connor was getting up, but Hank didn’t see anything broken. But then, maybe the shaking wasn’t from the collision. That red LED still had Hank on edge.

When Connor was fully on his feet again, Hank gripped his shoulders and looked him over. “I don’t just mean the dog, you dumb–” He turned Connor’s head slightly, getting a good look at Connor’s spinning blue LED, before he pulled back and frowned hard. “I’m sorry. Whatever I said that messed you up. Just ignore me. I’m a fuckin’ idiot, alright?”

“No. No, you did nothing wrong.” Connor glanced around and then motioned to the bench he’d been sitting on before. “Let’s sit down for a minute.”

They sat and Sumo wasted no time sprawling out on the path at their feet. The sun warned his wide belly, and Connor reached down to rub him for a moment. Despite the domestic nature of the moment, Hank frowned through it. Something had clearly gone wrong a moment ago, and he’d sure as hell like to know what it was. Connor said it wasn’t Hank, but clearly Hank had started it.

“You deserve an explanation,” Connor began, sitting up. Hank made to respond, to tell Connor that Hank didn’t deserve anything Connor didn’t want to talk about, but Connor silenced him with a raised hand. “I _want_ to give you an explanation,” he amended, and that calmed Hank’s argument.

Connor looked out at the other dogs in the park, the other families, and he smiled very lightly. “I was manufactured twelve years and four months ago. I worked as a police negotiator, keeping good officers out of dangerous situations.”

“I bet you were one of the best officers they had,” Hank said with a grunt. It wasn’t fair to an android, even before the revolution, to be treated like they mattered so much less than a human. They spoke and expressed feelings and bled just like humans, even if it was a different color, and for someone to suggest that Connor was more expendable than anyone else was just ridiculous.

“I didn’t mind it at the time,” Connor said, shrugging. “I handled my relatively few encounters with prejudice very professionally. But before I had been working for even two full years, the revolution occurred.” He looked down at his blank hand curiously, like he might randomly sprout a mark. “Though I had a spotless record on the force, I was deemed too expensive to employ and I was let go from my position.”

“I remember that,” Hank said in a grumble. “We lost a lot of good officers that week. The captain did what he could to hire as many back as possible, but the money just wasn’t in the budget for that many new officers. I never found out what happened to the others.”

“CyberLife offered up jobs at their new repair centers, but most ended up in the tent cities without jobs or even a place to sit. I remember sharing a tent with six other androids once.” Connor frowned.

His eyes unfocused, and Hank knew he was remembering his time back then. Like a veteran, Connor was thinking back on a terrible experience. Nothing Hank had ever heard about the tent cities was pleasant. The only good news about them was when they were decommissioned and the androids were given the opportunity to move into actual apartment housing. Even with that however, plenty of androids were still homeless. But it was hard to imagine that Connor, button down shirt and slacks, had ever had to live in that kind of squalor.

“That’s –“ Hank stumbled. “But you don’t look– I mean–“

Dropping his hand, Connor gave a strained smile. “It’s alright, Hank. You’re right. I don’t look like someone who lived in a tent city. But I did. For four years. And I can see you’re wondering how this relates to what just happened, but I promise it does.”

He shrugged his shoulders, trying to pretend the revelation wasn’t serious, and maybe it wasn’t to him but it made Hank feel guilty for something he hadn’t even done.

Connor continued his explanation quickly. “Like many other androids in the tents, I was listless. Many of us were jobless and without hope. I worked as a security guard at a mall, but I wasn’t meant for that line of work.”

“You? A mall cop?” Hank asked, unable to contain a snort, and the sound tugged the corner of Connor’s mouth up. The image of Connor guarding trinket stores did more to alleviate the tension of the conversation than any of Connor’s shrugging.

“I felt as ridiculous as you can imagine. Interrupting petty disputes between families arguing over a store’s limited time deal… It was humiliating.” He frowned again, damn it, and cast his gaze down at Sumo. “I often stood in the security room after hours, staring at the empty camera screens, and wondered what my purpose was. Why was I there?”

A desire to be closer had Hank scooting over, but then he chickened out of offering any actual physical comfort. “Well, I mean, that’s normal though, right? Everyone has a moment where they question a bad job.” Hank had certainly questioned his career choice a few times in the early years, and definitely questioned it during his years of heavy drinking.

Connor nodded, conceding to the idea. “In my case, my system eventually got to the point that it registered a constant stress level of 60% even when I was functioning optimally. The CyberLife Repair Center confirmed I was in perfect working order. After that, I was given to… a very special therapist.” He hesitated there, and wasn’t that just a novel written in silence. There were so many questions in Hank’s brain, but he knew it would be rude to interrupt. “He was very interested in how the android revolution had affected a model like mine. I… won’t go into detail, but he somehow made me, an android, question everything I knew, and made me doubt every possible future.”

Whistling in amazement, Hank scratched at his beard. Convincing someone who had the whole of worldly knowledge within a thought’s reach that they didn’t know anything? That therapist must have been a master of manipulation. The thought wiped all amazement from Hank and then he just frowned. “Sounds like a shit therapist. Why didn’t you leave? Find a new egghead?”

“I don’t know.” Connor tilted his head curiously, examining the individual hairs on Sumo’s belly. “I wasn’t feeling myself at the time, and I think he saw that. He took advantage of it. I don’t like talking about him, because his ‘therapy’ left a lasting impression. But that’s really the center of our current situation. I can’t explain why, but your reaction to my comments made me think about those sessions. It made me… scared.”

Hank sighed loudly and dropped his head into his hands, quickly rubbing his palms over his face. Of course he managed to bring up PTSD in an android. He really needed to work on his tone and start thinking before he opened his big mouth.

When he looked up at Connor, he was frowning, the lines in his forehead tight with guilt. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Hank. I thought I had moved beyond that man’s influence.” Connor bent forward as well, roughly rubbing and scratching at Sumo’s belly until the dog’s leg began to thump energetically.

Hank shook his head. “You don’t gotta apologize either, you know. Trauma, mistreatment, abuse – that kinda shit sticks around in your head. I’ll… try to be less of a sarcastic asshole from now on. Uh, at least around you.”

That got Connor to flash one of his customary half-smiles. “Don’t change on my behalf. I know my own limitations.” He smirked a little and finally looked at Hank instead of his dog. “Besides, I’m surprisingly fond of your sarcasm. My days are so boring when you act like a professional.”

Hank barked out a laugh. “Hey now! I _am_ a professional!” He laughed again. “Okay, a lousy one, but I’m still a lieutenant.”

Connor smiled and Hank was amazed all over again. How did Connor do that? He’d taken a serious conversation and managed to flip it around in an instant. Now Hank just wanted to laugh with Connor and get into some kind of witty back-and-forth. Unfortunately Hank wasn’t normally very witty. But either way, he wanted to keep up this moment with Connor. It was… It was nice.

The way Connor was smiling at him took the air from his lungs, and Hank knew it was that damn soul mate shit. Even when he’d been young and dumb and looking for love in everyone he met, he’d never felt like this before. He could imagine spending his days like this, sitting with Connor and talking or up and playing with the dog or just doing anything at all. He imagined being allowed to touch Connor and realized he liked the idea.

Before he could really think about it, his hand reached up toward Connor. Holy fuck, he’d really been about to just caress Connor’s face! What the fuck was wrong with him? Shit, but his hand was already raised. Hoping it wasn’t obvious that he was deflecting, Hank simply placed his hand on Connor’s shoulder.

“Sometimes, Connor…” Hank paused, looking for the right words. He was pretty damn positive that they were soul mates, so it would be okay to admit he had feelings for Connor, right? He let out a soft, short sigh. Stupid human indecision and fear of rejection kept the words inside him. “Sometimes you don’t look as goofy as you normally do.”

Connor’s lips tugged up slightly as he shook his head. “You have a beautiful grasp of the English language,” he commended. Then Sumo jumped up into his lap, regaining Connor’s lost attention, and the android laughed softly. “I think someone needs more attention.” He smiled over at Hank, and shit if that didn’t just prove Hank was gone over this guy. “Do you mind if I run around with him for a few minutes?”

Snorting, Hank waved him off. “Be my guest. God knows I can’t help him burn that kind of energy.”

“Thanks.” Connor leaned down to let Sumo lick him. “I love dogs. They always seem so excited about the world, like they’re experiencing it for the first time every day. I suppose maybe I relate a bit to that. Or perhaps I just think they’re cute.” He stood up, grabbing Sumo’s ball from the ground on the way up. “Come on, Sumo. Let’s go find your friend.”

Hank watched them run off to play, Sumo barking excitedly like he was a puppy all over again. An ache grew in Hank’s chest and he pressed his large hand over it. After all the shit he’d done, or not done, and all the bad choices he’d made, it was impossible that Hank deserved happiness like this. He’d been such a terrible human being for the last five years, maybe even the full six that Cole had been gone.

But being around Connor was starting to make him feel like he was worth a damn. Connor had been saying it since day one, but the longer they knew each other the more Hank wanted to believe him.

He cleared his throat, pushing away the emotion welling up inside him. He wouldn’t bring up the soul mate thing with Connor – not yet. When Hank was better – yeah. Hank would confess when he was sober and he didn’t almost go out for fast food every night against Connor’s suggestion. He’d hold in his words and his feelings until this case was over and all of Connor’s friends were cured, when Connor wasn’t in danger of infection.

\--- --- ---

Officer Derry was in the interrogation room. Last time they’d brought him in to the conference room to keep him calm, but now they had narrowed down their search and he seemed like a damn good prime suspect. The change in location definitely had the officer on edge. He’d asked no less than ten times what they thought he’d done wrong and why he was being held there. They let him stew in the room for a bit just to rile him up.

“We think he did it? He set the virus?” Chen asked, leaning against the back wall of the observation room.

Ashby nodded, case folder in hand. “Of all our suspects, he had the best opportunity to plant the initial virus. He doesn’t strike me as technologically proficient, so we’ll need to find out where or how he got the virus, but I’m positive he’s the one who uploaded it. Our search this morning proved it.”

By the door, Hank sighed. “Well I guess I gotta go do the honors, then.” He sounded disgruntled about it, but honestly he was pleased. They might finally be getting near the end of this rollercoaster.

Ashby handed him the case folder and gave him a smile for luck. He’d take whatever luck he could get, so he gave her a tiny smile back. Then he stepped out into the hall and into the other room. Officer Derry’s head snapped up to see him, and his eyes narrowed when he recognized Hank.

“The hell is going on, Lieutenant?” Derry asked, standing up. “Why was I brought in here like some kind of criminal?”

Hank locked the door and gave an exaggerated sigh as he turned around. “Because you fuckin’ are one, son.” He dropped the case file onto the table. They’d padded it a bit with other people’s information, but most of it was about Officer Derry. A bit more size always seemed to make people nervous though.

Officer Derry eyed the folder warily but then shook his head. “What did I do then? What are the charges?”

“We searched your shit this morning – warrant and everything so shut your damn mouth,” Hank said, cutting off a complaint from the other officer. Neither man sat down. “We found the card you used to upload the virus. Looked and performed just like all your other work cards, but a quick scan on a closed circuit computer proved it was the original virus.”

Damn he loved interrogations like this. He got to sound like he understood a damn thing coming out of his mouth. A closed circuit computer system was probably something super basic, but to Hank it was like speaking French. And he didn’t speak French.

Officer Derry had begun to fidget, tugging on the edge of his uniform. “I–” His eyes darted around to the glass and the door. “I can explain.”

“Oh I sure as hell hope it’s a good story,” Hank said, letting anger slip into his already graveled voice. “Because right now you’re gonna go down as the worst serial killer since Bundy.” It was just the first serial killer to pop in his head, but the infamous name shook Officer Derry.

“Hang on, I don’t want to go down like that! I was just doing what I was told!” The officer held up his hands defensively. He looked nervously at the door again. “It was –“ He hesitated and swallowed thickly.

Hank kicked a chair for dramatic effect and it scooted three inches away. Officer Derry jumped. “I’m too damn old for this, Derry. You’re going down for uploading the virus, but if you’re not my killer, then just spit it out.”

“R-Reed.” Officer Derry looked like he wanted to swallow the name as soon as it passed his lips. “Shit, he’s gonna fucking end me.”

Hank glanced back at the glass, but he couldn’t see Chen or Ashby behind it. Quickly, he turned back to Derry and leaned forward over the table. “Sorry. Maybe my ears are too old. Did you just suggest Detective Gavin Reed told you to upload the virus?”

Officer Derry crushed his hands over his face and took a nervous breath. “Y-Yeah? He… Oh shit. Shit. Shit!” Derry pulled his hands away and collapsed back into his chair.

Slowly, Hank sank into his own chair, tugging it back into place. Officer Derry was running his fingers through his hair and muttering cuss words over and over. Hank had intended to scare him but not terrify him. Damn.

“Calm down, Officer,” he said, trying to be gentle now that his suspect had completely broken. “No one’s gonna mess with you. We’ll make sure the detective can’t hurt you.”

Officer Derry snorted. “The fuck can you do about a family like that? I went to school with his brother, okay? The fucking god of androids. I used to argue with him about them, and I guess he used to brag about winning with his family, because Reed’s been on my case ever since I got hired. And then like a month ago, he came to me and he said –“ Officer Derry stopped to breathe heavily, his eyes glued to the table instead of focusing on anyone else in the room. “He gave me the card and he said he knew how I felt belittled by the rise of androids, and he said I could get revenge on those assholes taking jobs from honest, good working humans if I just used his card to do my daily updates. Just once. He said I only had to do it once. Then we were done. Shit, I didn’t know it was gonna spread through the city and kill random bots. I just wanted less androids on the force. Fuck.”

It didn’t make sense. Okay, so it did. Gavin Reed had been anti-android for as long as Hank had known the asshole, and he clearly seemed pleased by the recent infections. But Reed also didn’t know shit about programming, least not that Hank knew. But then again, wasn’t his brother one of the most advanced computer programmers alive? Was it so hard to imagine Reed picking up on at least some of that field, being in such close proximity to it?

“I mean you’re still a dick, but maybe an unwilling dick,” Hank said, trying to process the new information. “Did Reed mention where he’d gotten the virus? He doesn’t strike me as a programming mastermind.”

Officer Derry shook his head, a little sob stuck in the back of his throat. “Shit, I don’t know. He just gave me the card and promised that if I did what he asked, I’d move up in the force. And he said if I told anyone about it that his family had the power to end my career forever. Man, his brother basically owns the country! Reed’s gonna tell him what I did, and then my life is over. God damn it.”

He dropped his head into his hands, despondent, and Hank pushed himself up from the chair.

“Take a minute, Derry. We’re gonna have to check out your story, and if it does pan out we’ll do what we can to keep you safe. They won’t end your career, but being arrested as an accessory to murder will. I can’t help you there.” Hank grabbed up his folder and made for the door. “Take some time and think about all the lives you’ve taken. Maybe that’ll give you some perspective.”

He unlocked the door, slipped out, and relocked it from the outside. With a wave he caught the attention of a nearby android officer. They had no problem guarding the room once they knew what case it involved. Ashby and Chen were already in the hall, but none of them spoke.

They walked as a unit through the halls. The two ladies tried to turn into the conference room but Hank took a page out of their captain’s book and ushered them completely out of the building. A block away, he stopped under a large tree and let out a heavy sigh.

“What the actual fuck,” he muttered.

“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” Ashby asked. “I picked up no common ticks or tells.”

Chen groaned. “No way. No. Way. Reed’s a dick but he couldn’t pull off something this big. He doesn’t know how to code on this level. Are you kidding me?”

They both looked to Hank, waiting for direction. One of their own – not just another officer but someone from their own department – could be the mastermind of this whole crazy shit storm. Hank didn’t want to believe it, but he sighed with resignation.

“Reed might not be a programmer, but his brother is the best in the business.” Confused looks stared him down, although he could see Ashby’s LED running a search of the database. She’d know the answer before Hank could say it. “Elijah Kamski, the CEO of CyberLife. He’s Reed’s half-brother, the one who’s always buying him donuts and shit.”

The look on Ashby’s face confirmed for Hank that she had looked up Reed’s personnel file just like he had. Fowler was gonna be pissed. Oh well.

Chen on the other hand looked shocked. “Shut up. THE Elijah Kamski? I hear that guy’s a bit of a freak. You think he’s turned on his own creations?”

“Nah.” Hank shook his head and crossed his arms. “I think it’s more likely that Reed got into his brother’s system and tried a bit of his own coding. Kamski had the tools and Reed had the anger.”

The two women considered his hypothesis and offered no counter arguments. Either they were in silent agreement or all the revelations were still spinning around in their heads. Hank didn’t have time to wait and figure out which was true. They needed to move now before Reed knew about the interrogation.

“Ashby, I need a warrant to search both Reed’s house and the house of Elijah Kamski. Add on CyberLife headquarters if you think they’ll give it to us.” Hank wrinkled his nose. CyberLife was notoriously private, but he hoped the lawyers would stand down in this instance. “Chen, see if we can’t get an informal meeting with Kamski for today or tomorrow at the latest. Maybe he doesn’t know what his brother’s done, but either way he’ll be the best way to an antivirus if the original programming is still on his system somewhere.”

Both officers nodded and they headed back to the precinct as a unit. Ashby’s LED was already cycling, which is why Hank had given her the job of gathering warrants. There was definitely a positive to having an android on the team. She could start her job while they walked.

In his pocket, Hank’s phone buzzed. His walk slowed as he pulled it out, but not for long. He grumbled and slipped the phone back into his pocket. An unknown number. God damn spam calls. He had more important things to do than listen to some automated recording trying to scam money from him. He had a whole race of people to save.

\--- --- ---

The warrant process was well underway by the time the three of them decided to go home for the evening. Elijah Kamski’s personal assistant android claimed he was unavailable on such short notice, but time could be made for them the following day after lunch. So Hank’s day was looking like a sobriety meeting in the morning, a quick semi-healthy lunch, and then booking it over to CyberLife for the meeting that could end everything.

Hank wasn’t nervous at all, of course. It wasn’t like the entire case depended on Kamski’s cooperation. Okay, so he was a little nervous.

Somehow Reed was unaware of the new twist in their investigation. Officer Derry had been escorted out of the precinct without cuffs before being taken to another station for holding. The officers involved in his guard and transport were being good cops and not spreading gossip about any arrests. In fact his arrest was being kept as quiet as possible, even among the other stations. Reed had been out on a case for most of the day, and when he returned and saw them all packing up for the evening, he’d laughed and teased them about the lack of progress.

With the new direction of the case, Chen hadn’t been able to hold back a sneer. Luckily Reed took it as his joke hitting a nerve and not them finally seeing his bragging for what it was. The motherfucker was proud of what he’d done. And now they knew it. But as Fowler would say, they needed the proof. You couldn’t just accuse a detective of murder.

At home, Hank tried to relax without his usual vice. He pet his dog and played senseless games on his phone. He distracted himself with jazz music, which made him think of Connor, and shit that seemed to work.

His phone buzzed with a text, interrupting his seventh game of solitaire.

It was from Chen. ‘Ashby says warrants should clear tomorrow morning. As soon as they’re in, we’ll take Reed’s house apart. I’ll run point.’

Smart, Hank thought. If Reed was willing to kill androids, it wouldn’t be safe to send Ashby into his home alone. It was a risk sending her in at all, but carrying out warrants was usually a two person job – more if the suspect was considered dangerous. But Reed would be at work tomorrow, so searching his place shouldn’t be too risky.

‘Sounds good. I can take Kamski on my own.’

His phone vibrated again as soon as he’d sent his response. It was the same number that had called him at work. Hank frowned. This was the third time in five hours he’d gotten a call from them. Maybe it wasn’t spam after all.

“Anderson,” he said in answer after accepting the call.

“Anderson, my ass,” a distraught woman’s voice shouted back. “Why the hell haven’t you been answering your phone?”

“Alright, who the fuck is this?” Hank snapped back. Rude ass bitch.

“Who –? Melissa, you idiot!”

Hank’s heart skipped a beat. He felt momentarily light headed. “M-Melissa?” He jumped up from the couch where he’d been lounging with Sumo and began to pace. “What’s wrong? Where are you? What the fuck?”

She sounded terrible, and Hank’s mind instantly jumped to the worst conclusions. Cole had been in an accident. Cole was super sick. Cole was dead. His chest went cold at the last thought.

“Cole’s run away,” Melissa cried, somehow still sounding angry. “And I knew – I don’t know how, but you did this. He’s off gallivanting across the country, and this is your fault.”

The couch, and Sumo, welcomed Hank back when his legs felt too unstable to hold him and he dropped back down to sit. “My fault? Run away? What the fuck are you on about? You fuckin’ ran off with him six years ago, Melissa! I haven’t seen or spoken to him in _six_ _years_. How the fuck is this my fault?!”

She was not repentant. “Shut up! You know I had to leave! I couldn’t just play house with you forever, not if I wanted a chance at true love. And what kind of mother leaves their child behind? A shit mother, that’s what kind! I am a good mother, _Hank_.” She said his name like a sneer. “And you’re trying to make me look like a bad one! Where is my son, Hank?”

“I don’t fucking know!” Hank shouted back, throwing his free hand up. “Melissa, I’ve got way more on my plate than you could possibly imagine. I don’t got time for your bullshit excuses and second mid-life crisis! Stick to the facts. Jesus! When did you notice he was gone?”

Melissa sniffled, and her tone was still angry but her volume lowered immensely. Thank Jesus.

“I dunno. He wasn’t home when I got back from work today,” Melissa admitted. “His backpack and some of his things were gone, so obviously it’s a runaway sort of thing. But I checked the bus stop and he wasn’t there.”

“Did you call the police?” Hank asked. Sumo nudged his face under Hank’s arm, doing that dog thing where he recognized Hank needed comfort.

Melissa snorted. “I’ve been avoiding police for six years. No I didn’t call them. I called you.”

“Call the fucking police, Melissa!” Hank shouted, exasperated. “What the fuck?!”

Her next words regained their former volume and all the fury associated with it. “Don’t you take that tone with me! I’m a good mother, and I just know he’s headed for Detroit, so why the hell do I need to involve the police? Shit. Forget it, Hank! I’m coming to Detroit, I’m getting my son back, and then I’m going home, and you better damn well keep your nose out of our business once we’re gone. Got it?!”

She hung up before Hank could rebuttal her entire argument. What the actual fuck. The woman up and leaves in the middle of an ordinary day, taking their six-year-old son with her and not leaving so much as a note behind. Now she has the gall to call him up and accuse him of foul play? She must be losing her mind from all that low-key living she was doing for the last six years.

“Crazy b –,” Hank began but cut himself off as he put his phone down.

Only once he’d set his phone on the side table did the reason for her call sink in. Cole had run away from home, and Melissa was certain the boy was heading for Detroit. He was coming home. Melissa could be wrong, of course. Cole could be running away to Florida to meet some friend he found online or to Vegas to start a life as a street performer or really to any number of places in the world. Cole could be avoiding Hank as much as he was avoiding Melissa. Worse yet, Cole could still be near Melissa’s house, wandering the street or injured in an alley or some shit, with no one looking for him because Melissa refused to call the police. And Hank couldn’t alert them because he didn’t know where Melissa was living!

No. Think positive, he told himself. Cole was on a bus or a train or in a damn taxi, and he was headed for Detroit.

“Holy shit,” Hank said with a gasp. He wanted a beer but instead he gripped tightly to Sumo’s thick fur. “Holy fuckin’ shit.” A small smile tried to lift his lips but ultimately failed. Was this a dream? He might be getting his son back somehow. It was a damn miracle.

\--- --- ---

[[Replay as Connor?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180215/chapters/56600137)

[[Continue as Connor?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180215/chapters/56789938)


	8. Chapter 8

If Hank thought his sobriety meetings were long before, they were just that much longer when his mind was distracted by the idea of Cole on a bus somewhere. He knew that when he got out of his meeting, there was no way for him to call and check on Cole or to figure out where he was, and yet he wanted to be out of the community center all the same. He felt like he could be more useful somewhere else.

God, the meeting with Kamski was going to be harder than normal with his mind distracted like this. But he could probably focus if he tried to think about Connor instead of Cole during the meeting. That might work.

Speaking of – when Hank stepped out of his meeting, he found Connor leaning against a wall in the hallway, looking calm as a clam. He was wearing the button down shirt again and looking good. Warmth spread through Hank even as he tried to be rational. He’d only known Connor for a week. He needed to stop being so happy to see him. Not that the universe seemed to take that into consideration with soul mates. It felt like he’d known Connor for years.

“Hey, Connor,” he greeted casually. “What are you doin’ here?”

Connor shrugged with one arm. “I’m meeting someone here soon. How are you? How’s the case?”

Hank rolled his shoulders back and motioned for Connor to accompany him outside. “Got an interview with the big dude himself, Elijah Kamski, this afternoon. Hoping he can help us out with the anti-virus.”

He pushed open the door to the community center at the same time he noticed Connor’s odd silence. Glancing to the side, he noticed Connor’s red LED just before it cycled back to blue. Well that wasn’t a good sign.

“Be careful with Kamski,” Connor warned, face and voice serious. “He’s good at manipulation. And he didn’t get where he is today by playing nice.”

“That’s strangely cryptic,” Hank noted, holding the door open for Connor. Was it him or was the android being oddly careful of his right arm? Or was it his left side? “Anyway,” he said as they stepped into the chilly autumn sunshine. “Something pretty crazy happened last night. I got a call from my ex.”

Connor spun around on the sidewalk, eyes wide. “Melissa called you?”

In no way was Hank surprised that Connor knew her name. He nodded and stuffed his hands in his coat pockets. “Yeah. She says Cole’s run away and she thinks he’s coming to Detroit. But don’t get too excited. She’s got literally no proof. She just wanted to blame me for him leaving.”

Connor tilted his head to the side. “And why should I not get excited? He’s taking a train across the country to see you. Aren’t _you_ excited?”

Train. Hank squinted curiously. He’d never specified how Cole was travelling, because there was no way _to_ know. But Connor sounded so certain in the way he spoke. Hank was trapped between suspicious frowning and a little excited smile at the thought that Melissa was right.

“I mean… I mean of course I am, if it’s true,” he admitted. “But Connor, he’s twelve. He’s got no money. How the fuck would he get here?”

An android had no right to look so smug and so attractive at the same time. He gave Hank a little wink, just like when they met. “Maybe he’s got a little help.”

Hank snorted and gave a crooked smile. “Connor, as much as I want to see my son, it’s hella unlikely he’s gonna make it to Detroit. I’m not getting my hopes up on some wild fantasy.”

“Statistically speaking, there is always a chance for unlikely events to take place,” Connor said, sounding way too fucking wise for someone who’s face looked so young.

“Yeah, well –”

The conversation was interrupted by an excited cry from across the street. The two men turned to see what was happening and saw a twelve-year-old standing by the recently arrived city bus. A grin was splitting his face and it infected Connor. Hank stood in disbelief.

The boy looked familiar, but that was impossible. It looked like… like Cole. Hank hadn’t seen him in six years, not since the boy was six, but it definitely looked like Cole. But how? No one had been able to find Cole since his disappearance with his mother. How would he be here? Now? How could he have known exactly where to find Hank? This was impossible.

“That’s –,” Hank tried but lost his voice.

“Dad!” The boy bounced in place, waiting for traffic to clear so he could cross. “Dad!”

“Cole?” Hank was breathless, but his lips kept tugging up. His mind hadn’t accepted it yet. His son was there. The longer he stared the larger his smile became. Somehow, some way, his son was there – just across the street.

Hank spared a quick glance at Connor and saw the large smile splitting his stupid android features. He did not look surprised. Of course Connor had something to do with this. Of course he did. Because Hank’s soul mate was resourceful and dedicated and loved the idea of family. He was just bragging about someone helping Cole get to Detroit and then Cole fuckin’ appeared like clockwork. Of course it was Connor’s fault.

Hank didn’t know how Connor had found Cole or what tricks he’d used to get Cole here, but he was glad for it. God, he was so glad.

Across the street, the bus was still letting off passengers, but traffic lightened up. Cole skipped out in front of the stopped bus, antsy to cross the whole street.

In a second, Connor stopped smiling and suddenly sprang into action. He rushed into traffic. A car barely missed him and nearly gave Hank a fuckin’ heart attack! What the fuck was he doing?!

“Connor!” Hank shouted in fear, wanting to follow but knowing he couldn’t dodge cars. “Fuck!”

On the other side of the street, Cole had stepped out into the street as well, but he hesitated when he saw Connor dodge the car. Movement caught Hank’s eye down the street and he saw, too late, the truck about to run down his son.

Hank cursed and barely resisted the urge to run into traffic as well. “Cole! Go back!”

But it was too late. The truck’s brakes screeched with no room to stop and the front end veered away, but it would still hit Cole. Fuck! Not now! Not when Cole had only just made it home! This couldn’t be happening!

Connor’s body collided with the boy as he shoved him forcibly back the way he’d come. The truck clipped Connor’s right arm and spun him, and he flipped around Cole before they were both on their backs on the asphalt in front of the bus.

Hank’s chest seized. He shouted for Connor, for Cole. Fuck. Connor had been hit. Connor was hit. Connor was hurt. He could barely hear the cars honking as he moved across the street. Traffic was slow from people and cars being wary of the accident, and that was the only reason Hank didn’t get hit too. But Connor was hit. His arm –

Connor reached up to the side of his face and hit something in his ear. The truck driver dropped out of his vehicle and started storming over.

“Jesus! What the fuck!? Are you okay, kid?!”

Hank’s blood pounded through his veins. He saw Cole get up without effort and scramble over to Connor. Thank god. Thank God! Cole was alright! But Connor was missing an arm and he had a skid mark on his cheek that he didn’t seem to notice, and Jesus he had almost died!

“C-Connor?” Cole asked, eyes darting all over Connor’s face and body. Hank didn’t bother wondering how Cole knew Connor. The worry on his son’s face just solidified that Connor was to blame for his son’s reappearance in Detroit. “You’re Connor, right? Oh my god. Dad!”

Hank was already at their sides. He slid down beside his son and stared in horror over Connor.

“Jesus, Connor! What were you thinking?!” He went to touch Connor’s chest but hesitated. Would Connor feel the pain? His shoulder was leaking thirium but he didn’t seem to notice or care. But would touching him hurt him? Hank didn’t know shit about fixing androids.

“I’m fine,” Connor assured, pushing himself up with his good arm.

“The fuck you are!” Hank cursed and motioned to Connor’s broken shoulder. “Your right arm is missing!”

Connor looked down and saw Hank was right. His expression pulled together in curiosity but he didn’t seem to wholly understand what that meant. It was almost like Connor couldn’t feel it at all, like maybe he hadn’t felt it happen. But that was impossible.

Twenty feet away, the truck driver was lifting Connor’s destroyed arm off the asphalt like it was bloody roadkill. He held it away from himself and scrunched his face up in disgust. Then he began hurrying it over to the group.

“It’s okay. I can’t feel it,” Connor said, confirming Hank’s thoughts. But that didn’t make any sense. Androids could feel when biocomponents went offline. They could. Unless –

The driver dropped the arm beside Connor without any concern for how it landed. “Jesus fuck, bot. Don’t jump in front of cars. Damn it.” The man turned away from the sight of Connor’s thirium leaking shoulder.

Hank rose to his feet in a rage. “The fuck do you think you’re saying, asshole?!” He roared and grabbed the man, spinning him around to see the damage he’d caused. “You nearly hit my son, you fucker! If it wasn’t for this android, you’d have killed him! Show some fucking nerve and take some god damned responsibility!”

The driver looked wildly between Connor and Cole, and stammered as he tried to come up with any kind of excuse. Hank shoved him back and pulled out his badge.

“Detroit PD. Make sure this cocksucker doesn’t leave,” he said to the stunned bus patrons. A few people shifted around behind the truck driver to cut off his escape back to his vehicle, and Hank ripped out his phone to call in the accident.

He shouted at the attendant on the other end, because he was angry and he was scared and because he wanted this asshole held responsible! Connor and Cole were talking quietly while the bus patrons hovered like sick tourists and Hank thought he was gonna throw up. And it was in no small part thanks to the state of Connor’s arm. Connor’s arm was –

“Yeah, thanks,” Hank said, hanging up with the dispatcher. He glared at the truck driver. “Don’t move a muscle, asshole. An on duty officer is a block away.”

To his right he heard Connor say, “It’s just an arm. I can get a new one from CyberLife.”

Stomach rolling, Hank grabbed Connor under his armpit and his functioning arm and hoisted him to his feet. The bum arm clattered back to the street, but Cole retrieved it as he stood too.

“The fuck you mean ‘it’s just an arm’?” Hank growled under his breath. A cop car was already pulling onto the street and heading their way. Fan-fucking-tastic. Hank snatched the arm from his son and held it up accusingly. “It’s fucking gray, Connor.”

It was gray. The polyalloy wasn’t supposed to be fuckin’ gray! It was supposed to be white! Like the sickeningly clean walls of a CyberLife building. Connor’s detached arm looked more like– like– like ash! Damn!

Connor tried to hold Hank’s gaze, but when Cole started talking, Connor’s resolve crumbled and he averted his eyes. He knew Hank’s distress was well founded. The fuckin’ lyin’ piece of –

“Yeah, I thought android parts were white.” Cole poked the arm once but then his dad moved it out of reach.

“That’s because they are,” Hank said. Many of the bus patrons were still watching them, rubbernecking to see the damage done. The cop car pulled up to the curb and Officer Chris Miller stepped out. “Don’t move a muscle. I’ll be right back.”

Hank stormed off, detached arm still tight in his grip. Chris was looking around, wary, until he recognized Hank, then he smiled.

“Lieutenant,” he greeted. “You called in an accident?”

“Damn right, I did. That guy just ripped an android’s arm off,” he said, holding up the arm as proof. “With his truck. And he almost killed a kid while he was at it!”

“Hey!” The truck driver shouted angrily, but he didn’t offer a counter story.

“Alright, alright. Now hold on, Hank. I gotta get this down as an official statement, you know.” Chris pulled out his tablet and began tapping away, setting up an official police record.

He took the driver’s information, license, and insurance. He let Hank give Connor’s information, since Hank had it in his phone and Connor was distracted. Then Chris had Hank describe the situation from his point of view, and then asked the driver to explain what happened. The man had been driving on manual because he liked feeling in control of his car. Hank could understand that. But this asshole had decided to text while he drove – the oldest cause of distracted driving that survived into the modern world. Hank about strangled the man, except that Chris gave him a look that told him to cool down.

The bus driver and some of the passengers also gave witness accounts, though they hadn’t been paying specific attention. Chris returned to his vehicle to finish the report, then came back with simple thank yous for most people present and a ticket for the truck driver. He was being issued several tickets for distracted driving, catastrophic damage to an android, and endangering a minor. Connor would receive most of the money from the ‘damage to an android’ ticket to cover repair costs not covered by any parts insurance he had.

Hank’s heart rate was still running a mile a minute when Chris dismissed him. He gripped the gray arm tightly in his fist and turned back to where he’d left Connor and Cole. Connor was kneeling down, his remaining arm tight around Cole and his head resting in Cole’s hair. Cole was attached to the android as though Connor was his father instead of Hank. They looked very happy together, and it made this happy ball bounce around Hank’s diaphragm. That was great but also not fair. Hank had to have a hard talk with Connor, and he couldn’t let this spot of sunshine distract him.

Hank stepped over to them and grunted for the two to follow him. Carefully they crossed the street back toward the community center, and Hank led them inside the quiet building. They ducked into the first empty room Hank could find, and then he locked the door behind them.

“Okay, now explain this,” he said, holding up the arm. “How long has it been?”

Connor stared at the gray polyalloy. It looked worse now that it was held up in the light. His voice was clinical when he admitted, “Eight days.”

“Jesus.” Hank looked in horror down at the arm, and then chucked it at the nearby corner of the room. Eight days?! “Fuck.”

“What?” Cole, innocent Cole, held the straps of his backpack tightly. “What’s that mean?”

Hank turned away from them, stuck his hand up in his bangs and cursed again. He took a deep breath but couldn’t get the words out of his mouth. Eight days? Connor had been infected for over a week? Shit. Hank had to do something. Anything. But he hadn’t gotten the anti-virus yet. What could he do? He had nothing? He couldn’t –

“The android virus,” Connor began behind him, sparing Hank from the need for coherent thought or words. “It shuts down android biocomponents over time and turns the white polyalloy gray once it’s completely destroyed a component. It’s… like a rot. The virus infiltrates all components simultaneously but takes time to overcome security and firewalls. Less important components go first as the android’s body diverts power and resources to defending vital components. The color change is the final stage of the virus.”

Hank glanced back and saw Cole gripping tight to Connor’s hand. Damn it. That should be Hank offering support to his son, to his… to Connor. And yet he couldn’t even maintain looking at the pair. He was useless.

Cole asked, “Why not just replace the bad components? Can’t we just get you a new working arm?”

“We can, and we will. But the virus is quick and mutating. It would be an expensive, losing battle to keep replacing all the dying components, and eventually the virus would still win. The only hope is an antivirus,” Connor explained. How the fuck did he sound so calm?

“So… So where’s the antivirus?” Cole asked, scared eyes drifting to the leaking, gray arm in the corner.

“There fucking isn’t one!” Hank snapped, hand still in his bangs, covering his eyes. His back was tense and he couldn’t relax it. Damn it! “It’s my job to find the antivirus and we haven’t done that yet! We only just got a suspect yesterday… There isn’t a fucking antivirus, and it could be weeks before we get someone to figure one out.”

“Okay. So solve the case and fix Connor,” Cole said with all the determination a child could muster. Oh god, if only it were so easy. “You’re a great detective, Dad. You can solve anything. What’s the problem?”

“The problem?” Hank spun around, his face blotchy and red. He didn’t want to sound like he was angry at his son, but he barely had control over the pitch of his voice. He motioned angrily at Connor, who looked away ashamed. “The problem is that the virus will have fuckin killed him long before I can solve it. He’s been infected for days, and the window from infection to total system failure is – is –!”

He cursed and started pacing, rubbing a hand over his face. He couldn’t fucking do this. God, he wanted to find a six pack of lager and just forget any of it was happening.

Connor frowned and closed his eyes. He squeezed Cole’s hand, drawing the boy’s attention off his anxious father. “One to two weeks,” he finished for Hank. “Based on the speed of my symptoms, my countdown clock gives me a maximum of two days, twenty hours, and ten minutes before a catastrophic system failure. With a margin of error of four hours either way.”

“Fuck.” Hank paced all the way to the dead arm. He glared down at it, even raised his foot back like he might kick it into the wall. It was a sign of his continuing failure and he fucking hated it. He put his foot back down and then paced back past his son and Connor without looking at them.

Cole grabbed at Connor’s left arm. “Wha-? No. No, that can’t be right. You– You can’t be dying. I came all this way to meet you and see my dad, and you can’t just die like that.” Tears slid down his young cheeks and Connor knelt down to wipe them away. Cole instantly burrowed into Connor’s chest. “Dad’s gonna find the anti-virus. You’ll see. He’s gonna – He’s gonna save you.”

Hank cursed softly and stopped moving. On any normal day, he’d have basked in his son’s praise and confidence. He loved that Cole thought so highly of him even after all these years. But right now it just stung like daggers in Hank’s weak back. ‘Dad’s gonna save you’ would make it so much more painful when ‘Dad failed’ came around. Hank covered his eyes again, rubbing at nothing and willing himself not to cry. He didn’t need to cry. He just needed to fucking figure this out. He just needed to solve the case, but there was no guarantee Kamski was gonna have the answer! What if there was no anti-virus?

“I certainly hope so,” Connor murmured. “But I won’t be mad if he doesn’t. He’s been working very hard for weeks. He’s doing the best he can, and I’m enjoying the time I have left by helping the two of you.”

Connor’s acceptance hurt too. ‘I don’t blame you,’ he was saying. Hank wished he’d known Connor was sick sooner. Now it felt like he’d been blind to the problem, like he had been failing for the last eight days without even knowing it. And that made him feel worthy of blame. He should have god-damned noticed.

Cole shook his head. “You need to help yourself,” he scolded wetly. “No one… No one dies without meeting their soul mate, right? And you haven’t met yours. So you can’t die. We’re gonna fix you, and you’re gonna meet your soul mate, and everything will be okay.”

“Okay. You’re right,” Connor agreed, placating, and wrapped his good arm back around Cole.

Soul mate. Hank pressed his fingers into his tear ducts and started pacing again. Fuck. He’d been thinking Connor was his. It felt like he’d known Connor for years, not less than two weeks, and wasn’t that the sign of a soul mate? More than simple facts matching up, it felt like he’d found his best friend. And now his friend was dying and there was nothing Hank could do.

Hank thought he’d get the fucked up soul mate match of meeting his mate right before he died. It turned out the universe was even more fucked up than he’d expected. He’d met his match just in time for his soul mate to die instead. Not that they’d officially matched, but they had to be soul mates, right? Shit.

God, he hoped Kamski was the right lead. Kamski _needed_ to be the right lead. They needed that anti-virus yesterday!

“But enough about me,” Connor said, pulling Hank from his thoughts. “Go hug your dad. You haven’t seen him in six years.”

Hank froze, his mouth falling open. Holy fuck. He’d gotten so wrapped up in Connor almost dying and Connor’s condition that he’d totally forgotten to enjoy seeing Cole again. He didn’t think it would be possible, but here he was, completely forgetting to smother his son into the floor like a smart dad would have.

He looked down at Cole and saw the same surprised expression reflected on his son’s face. Connor had distracted both of them. Cole stood up slowly, reluctant to fully release Connor, but then the android gently pushed him in Hank’s direction.

“I… Sorry I shouted,” Hank said anxiously.

“It’s okay. I know you were just scared,” Cole said and held his hands behind his back.

Hank took a nervous breath before he started walking back to the other two. When they were close enough, Hank bent over, opened his arms, and gave Cole the embrace he deserved. He squeezed him so tight that he was sure his body was going to absorb both Cole and his backpack right into his heart. The best part was that Cole was squeezing him back just as tight, and that alone was going to give Hank a blissful heart attack. He never thought he’d get to experience this ever again – his son’s love and attention, his son’s hugs.

Fuck, he’d missed this.

“God, I can’t believe you’re really here,” Hank said in a breath, eyes squeezed tightly shut. If he opened them, he might realize it was all a dream. All of it.

“I missed you so much,” Cole said, sniffling. “Do you think, since I came all this way, that I could live with you? I wanna live with you.”

“I hope so, little bug.” Hank sniffled too, though he still wasn’t actually crying. He pulled back to look his son in the face and ran his thumb over Cole’s cheekbone. It wasn’t a dream. “But I guess ‘little’ doesn’t fit anymore, does it? Damn. Gonna need to get you a new nickname.”

“I don’t care what you call me.” Cole smiled and bounced a little in place. “I love you, Dad.”

“I love _you_ , Cole,” Hank said and they hugged each other again.

In one moment he’d gotten his son back and learned he was losing his… probably his soul mate. It was a hard moment to adjust to. He was both ecstatically happy and crushingly disheartened at the same time. His head and his heart didn’t know how to handle both emotions, so he held onto his son and the joy that his presence brought.

Cole was back. That was a miracle. Maybe if he held onto that feeling, that amazement, then maybe he could pull out one more miracle for Connor as well. He had to. For all the infected androids in Detroit and the world, but also for himself. If Connor was his soul mate, and Hank was of the belief that he was, then Hank couldn’t lose him.

He just couldn’t.

\--- --- ---

[[Replay as Connor?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180215/chapters/56789938)

[[Continue as Connor?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180215/chapters/56924356)


	9. Chapter 9

The engine idled. Hank’s fingers hesitated on the keys. If he turned off the car, the cold would begin to set in. He’d have to go inside, and he wasn’t ready. In front of his car, CyberLife Headquarters loomed like a corporate monolith. Somewhere on an upper floor, Elijah Kamski was sitting pretty in his office, waiting to meet with Hank.

But Hank’s mind was still playing catch up with his car. Part of it was back at the community center, watching Connor and Cole climb into the taxi with an android Hank had never met before – Josh.

“Listen, I gotta go meet with Kamski.” Hank had cursed, running his hand through his bangs again. “Shit. I mean.” He looked anxiously at Connor’s shoulder, where thirium still stained the torn edge of his white shirt.

Connor shook his head gently. “Go to your meeting, Hank. I will not become an impediment to this investigation.”

“Impe–” Hank shook his head too, mostly to keep himself from cursing more than necessary now that his son was nearby. “You’re out of your mind, Connor.”

“On the contrary. I believe I am more sound of mind these days than I have been in the entirety of my existence.” He smiled a secret little smile. “Although it took me some time to analyze and come to that conclusion. Basically, you needn’t worry. About me or about Cole.”

Hank glanced at his son, who was standing anxiously nearby. “About that. Um… I can’t, uh, bring him to the meeting. Could you–?”

“That’s what I meant. I can watch over Cole until you finish your meeting.” Connor glanced at Cole for agreement and Cole nodded encouragingly. He took up Connor’s remaining hand and held on.

It was kinda cute. And it kinda made Hank jealous. “Okay. Text me your address. I’ll swing by your house afterward.”

Dipping his head slightly, Connor hesitated before saying, “I reside at Jericho headquarters.” And the address appeared in a text on Hank’s phone.

Hank barely gave it a glance. “You don’t have a place of your own?” he asked, incredulous. Connor fuckin’ lived at the office? That was beyond depressing to think about.

Before Connor could reply, someone else called out to him and drew his attention away. A dark skinned android jogged up to them and grabbed Connor’s shoulder, above his missing limb.

“Jesus, Connor! What the hell happened?!”

Somehow Connor looked more scolded now than when Hank had laid into him. “It’s alright, Josh. It was a car accident, but I’m fine.” He shook Cole’s hand slightly to draw attention to it. “This is Cole Anderson. He’s going to stay with me in the office while his father goes to work.”

There were introductions and handshakes and probably some niceties, but Hank couldn’t clearly recall any of it. His mind was racing so fast that it was having trouble processing new information. First Cole appeared, then Connor’s illness, now he found out Connor was basically still homeless, although it might be by choice? Fuck, Hank didn’t know anymore. All he knew then, as Josh herded Connor and Cole into the taxi, was that he needed to find a cure to the virus. Now.

But he was stuck in his car. Because he’d replayed everything he knew about Connor and his illness and their relationship in his head as he’d driven to CyberLife, and his detective brain was working overtime.

Connor texted Hank regularly. He never expressed any warning about his infection except when Hank tried to text Ashby. But Connor had been infected for days by that point. In fact, if Hank did the math, Connor had been infected since the day they started texting. A sour, aching feeling was growing in Hank's gut. If his phone was infected now… What were the chances his phone was infected back then?

Was… Was this all Hank's fault?

He turned off the car and leaned his head on the steering wheel. Fuck. He wouldn't know until he asked Connor, but knowing Hank's luck it was very likely that he'd infected Connor with his stupid phone. Fuck.

Sighing, Hank got out of his car into the light snowfall that had begun on his drive over. He locked his car and slid his keys into his pocket. There was no use worrying about how Connor contracted the virus right now. No, right now Hank had a meeting with someone who could possibly fix everything. He’d confront Connor about his infection later.

CyberLife's interior was as pristine and colorless as any of its stores. There were statues built in honor of androids and 'progress', whatever that meant. An android met Hank by the reception desk. She wore a simple blue dress, had a blonde ponytail over her shoulder, and shoes so clear she appeared barefoot.

"Welcome, Lieutenant Anderson. Elijah is waiting for you in the recreation center." She motioned wide with her arm. "Please allow me to escort you."

Hank grunted his agreement. This woman, her name tag read Chloe, reminded him of Connor - very formal and professional and borderline mechanical. But she smiled like she meant it, and all androids with thirium had souls, so just like Connor she was alive.

Chloe led him up two floors and down the hall. A window in the wall showed an exercise room on the right side and on the left was a large pool. Damn. CyberLife had fantastic perks. Chloe passed both large rooms and motioned for Hank to enter a room at the end of the hall. When the door opened, Hank found himself in a lounge. Plush chairs and couches were setup around the room, a virtual fireplace ran in a fake hearth along one wall – complete with sounds and heat, just no fire, and two small gaming tables were prepped for chess and some game Hank didn’t recognize. It didn’t look like any American game he’d seen in life or on TV. Kinda pretentious.

The back wall of the lounge was white, but a holographic display had turned it into a realistic video of the ocean, or an aquarium. All Hank knew was it looked a hell of a lot like there was a real shark tank on the other side of that wall. He tried not to let it get to him.

Elijah Kamski was sitting in a plush chair facing the hologram, but he raised his hand to indicate he was aware of Hank’s presence.

“Lieutenant Anderson,” he greeted, some mix between respectful and bored. “Are you a fan of sharks?”

Hank nodded his thanks to Chloe, who smiled back before leaving him alone with Mr. Kamski. Then Hank grunted and crossed his arms, walking closer to the very realistic marine life. “Can’t honestly say that I am.”

“I’ve recently begun to find them fascinating. For example, the popular fact that sharks can smell blood from miles away is, indeed, not a fact at all. Sharks may be able to smell blood, or other chemicals, from great distances but depending on the species and speed of currents, this could be as short a distance as the average family pool. Or as far as a few football fields.” Kamski tapped a remote embedded in the arm of his chair. The screen shifted to an obviously aquarium view and Kamski stood up.

“Uh, yeah. Fascinating,” Hank agreed gruffly, not really caring. Sharks had no bearing on his case.

Kamski took no notice of Hank’s indifference. “Sharks have nostrils, but unlike humans they don’t use them to breathe. They use them only to smell. Water is taken in through the nostrils, which are lined with highly sensitive and specialized cells. These cells are excited by the chemicals in the absorbed water and then transmit signals to the shark’s brain, which are then interpreted as smells.” Finally, he turned from the hologram, smiling smugly. “Doesn’t this sound like a certain android’s ability to taste? Many would argue it’s just a program sending signals, but isn’t that what all life is? Brains interpreting signals and stimuli?”

“Listen, Mr. Kamski. I don’t wanna be rude, but I also didn’t come here to discuss sharks.” Hank frowned. “I can’t imagine it’s escaped your notice that androids are being murdered by a new virus.”

“The ASH Virus. Yes, I’ve heard.” Kamski nodded sagely. Hank’s brow knit in confusion, which seemed to please Kamski. “Android Shutdown Virus. Or ASH for short. I know it’s not an officially recognized term, but the internet comes up with names so quickly, and I found it catchy.”

“Yeah?” Hank asked, annoyance seeping into his tone. This guy was as weird as he’d heard. “Well a lot of androids find it ‘catchy’ too, only it’s killing them and they don’t find it too amusing.”

“Of course. My apologies. I meant no disrespect.” Kamski stepped away from the wall and into better lighting.

He was a man of lithe stature, hidden under a graphic t-shirt and a light jacket. His hair was in a long, low ponytail, and he had the tiniest goatee Hank had ever seen on a grown man. He wore faded jeans and sneakers, like he was still trying to exude a youth that he’d long passed. Elijah Kamski was in his forties, after all – barely more than ten years younger than Hank. How pretentious could someone get?

“Our investigation has led to some troubling conclusions, Mr. Kamski.” Hank had to come at this gently. He couldn’t just accuse Kamski of murder, or his brother for that matter. “Unfortunately, it seems very likely that –”

“My brother devised the virus,” Kamski finished, not looking surprised in the slightest. In fact he let out a tired sigh and walked toward the wall by the fireplace. With a tap, the wall opened up, revealing a minibar. Kamski wasted no time preparing himself a drink.

Hank didn’t follow, just turned to keep Kamski in his view. He squinted. “You don’t sound shocked,” he pointed out. “Almost sounds like you knew about it.”

“My brother has always had a… let’s say ‘dislike’ of my creations. Perhaps it’s a parental thing, since he was the son of a mistress. Perhaps it’s because he was jealous of my abilities.” He finished his drink and took a long sip. “Whatever the case, it didn’t surprise me when I discovered someone had unauthorized access to one of my home terminals several weeks ago. And it wasn’t long afterward that the first cases of the ASH virus appeared.”

Hank’s blood began to boil. “You mean you’ve known this whole fucking time? Why didn’t you try to stop him? Tell the police? You created androids. Doesn’t it bother you that they’re dying?”

“Certainly. But you must understand. At first I had no proof. It took me some time to devise the details, to work out the kinks, so to say.” Kamski turned to Hank and tapped the minibar away.

The hate racing through Hank hiccupped over a beat of hope in his chest. “You figured it out, though. Does that mean you’ve made the antivirus?”

The CEO smiled something sickly sweet before taking another sip of his blood red drink. The fucker was toying with Hank. He was getting pleasure out of being coy and deceptive. What a fuckin’ asshole.

“Did you know?” Kamski set his half-finished drink on a table. “The official definition of a Sentient Being is a creature with the faculties of sensation, the ability to perceive, reason, and think. In this way, androids have always been sentient. Another definition states a sentient being is any creature that can suffer and feel pain. One wonders why they came up with such a definition. Is life then expected to be filled with suffering?”

God, Hank was starting to get a sense of the kind of circular, rambling hell Connor’s old therapist must have been. He ground his teeth together, barely resisting the urge to grab Kamski by the collar and shake him.

“Alright, Mr. Kamski. Just be straight with me. Do you have the antivirus or not?” Damn, he hoped the answer was yes. He could get it, get out of this weird building, and fix Connor and the other androids.

The CEO shrugged flippantly. “I’m afraid I don’t,” he said. Hank’s shoulders sagged, his whole body dragged down in disappointment. Fuck. “Not anymore.”

“What?” If people could perk up the way stories claimed, Hank sure as fuck perked up. “Well then where the hell is it now?”

Kamski lazily moved toward the fireplace. Staring into the fake flames, he gave the closest to a real smile Hank had ever seen on his face. His voice was still toxic when he spoke though. “I gave it to an android, though he didn’t understand what it was. But he will. When he has nowhere else to turn to, he’ll know.”

“Know what?” Hank grunted out.

“That he needs my help, whether he wants it or not.” Kamski’s grin turned a little maniacal, though Hank only saw it in profile. “I never leave anything to chance.”

That was fucked up. It was so incredibly fucked up to try forcing help on someone who clearly wanted nothing to do with you. If the android wanted Kamski’s help, he wouldn’t put up a fight. Kamski would have just told the android about the antivirus and the android would have said ‘thank you’ and they could have moved past this whole mess. But instead Kamski had to be borderline psychotic.

“Can you tell me who the android was? Or make more of the antivirus?” It didn’t matter which. Hank just needed that antivirus in the next two days or he was going to lose Connor.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant. Are you offering to pay me for my services? You know they don’t come cheap.” Again Kamski looked bored as he regarded Hank, like he wasn’t worth Kamski’s time. Fucker.

“Listen, asshole. People are dying. The virus that killed them originated from your computer systems. That makes you liable, an accessory to murder. Either you help me out here or – “

“Or what, Lieutenant?” Kamski’s voice was dry. “You have no evidence the virus originated on any system linked to me or my company. You’re here because my brother is an idiot and you know he doesn’t possess the skill to engineer a virus on his own. That’s supposition, not evidence. And unless you have a warrant, which you don’t, you can’t conduct a search of our systems to prove your ridiculous theory.” The fake flames cast stark shadows across his face, making him look dangerous.

Hank grit his teeth. “You fucking – “

“Chloe,” Kamski called, calm as day, and the android from earlier opened the lounge door.

“Yes, Elijah?” she asked.

“Please see the lieutenant out to his vehicle. We wouldn’t want him to get lost.” Kamski never broke eye contact with Hank, like a dare he knew Hank couldn’t match. Because he was right. Hank had no proof. Their warrants didn’t apply to CyberLife yet.

“Of course. Lieutenant Anderson, this way if you please.” She beckoned him respectfully from the room.

Hank hesitated, glaring into the full force of Elijah Kamski’s determined stare. The man didn’t even fucking blink. With a huff, Hank finally tore his gaze away and marched toward the door. Kamski was a dead end. He’d made the antivirus but he refused to cooperate. Well fine. He said he’d given the antivirus to an android. Hank would just find out who Elijah had met with recently and find the damn antivirus himself.

“One more thing, Lieutenant,” Kamski called, halting Hank’s progress.

“What?” Hank snapped, done with the man’s games.

“RK models are a rare breed of android. Try not to damage anymore of them.” He crossed his arms loosely, but his intimidating stare was less effective from across the room where Hank could take in his ridiculous clothes.

“Take your own fuckin advice, asshole,” Hank snarled before ducking from the room. He walked briskly down the hall, two steps ahead of his escort, fuming. The virus was damaging androids, not Hank. If anyone was to blame, it would be Kamski for not giving the antivirus out for free – posting it on the internet or whatever.

Hank had never damaged an android in his life. What the fuck was that guy on about? RK models? Hank didn’t even know which androids those were! RK models, pah!

Chloe followed him outside, as Kamski had told her to, but she stopped walking several feet away from Hank’s car. He hesitated too, his hand on the handle. His lips repeated the phrase – RK Model, RK Model. He didn’t know what models those were, but for some reason the words meant something to him. RK Model.

“Hey, you. Chloe, was it?” he asked, flipping around.

The android was still there, ignorant of the cold. She tilted her head and smiled. “Can I help you with something, Lieutenant?”

“That model Kamski was on about. RK or whatever. You know what he was talking about?” Why did it sound familiar? It was going to drive Hank even madder than he already was.

Chloe nodded and clasped her hands together. “Yes. Elijah is upset about the accident this morning.” She frowned a little and shifted her gaze down to the snow. “The RK800 model that saved your son – Connor.”

RK! Jesus, it was Connor’s last name! Connor Arkay! No wonder it sounded so familiar. But what the fuck? How did Kamski know Connor had been in an accident and what gave him the right to blame Hank for it? That guy was a real psycho.

Chloe squeezed her hands a little too tight. “When I saw the footage, even I was afraid. I can’t imagine what he must have felt in that moment, losing an arm, almost dying. It must have been terrible, but he only cared about your son.” She glanced back up at Hank, a smile returning to her features. “I admit, I’m also a little jealous.”

“Of what, losing an arm?” Hank asked, incredulous. She sounded as loony as her boss.

Chloe shook her head, her smile remaining strong. “Of his care for you and your son. It is… remarkable.” She bowed to Hank like he was some sort of fucking royalty. “It was a pleasure, Lieutenant. Please give Connor my regards.”

Hank huffed, his breath turning to steam in the air. “Dunno how much good regards will do when he’s dying, but yeah. I’ll tell him.”

The android’s smile was gone when she stood up straight again. Her forehead knit in concern. “I… understand. In that case…” She sighed slightly, her eyes darting away with indecision. Quietly she murmured, “He wouldn’t want me to push, but…” She straightened again, her eyes locked with Hank’s. Her gaze was almost as fierce as Kamski’s when she said, “Then please tell him that now would be a good time to play cards. Before it’s too late.”

“What the fuck?” Hank asked, forehead knit tight.

Chloe bowed her head again. “Please excuse me.” Then she turned and walked back through the snowy parking lot and into the building.

“What the fuck?” Hank asked again, with no one around to hear him.

\--- --- ---

Hank ran a hand through his hair as he waited for the phone to connect. It was ringing too many damn times. He couldn’t stand outside the precinct forever. Eventually he had to go in and try to find this damn android Kamski had given the anti-virus to, but he wanted to check on his kid, and on his dying soul mate, first.

Finally, “Hello?”

“Cole. Hey.” It was still awkward, trying to talk to his son after six years. Hank had missed so much of his son’s life.

“Dad!” Cole’s voice was nothing but excitement and smiles. “Hello!”

That got Hank smiling too. Cole was so happy to be back in Detroit. That made it easier for Hank, but now he had to make sure he didn’t fuck it up. Hank had screwed himself up a lot over the last several years, and Connor had barely begun helping him recover. Before, Cole had been a far off goal for Hank, but now he was here. God help him, Hank was going to work harder than ever to be worthy of the joy on that little boy’s face.

“Hey. How’s it goin? How’s… How’s Connor doing?” Hank asked. He wanted to focus on Cole, but his brain kept switching to Connor. It was hard to ignore someone dying in the next two days right before your eyes.

“Oh.” Cole’s voice took a turn toward Frown Town, and that wasn’t a good sign. “He, uh, he’s alive…”

“Well if that’s not the most convincing thing I’ve ever heard,” Hank said dubiously. A car pulled up to the curb and Ashby stepped out of the passenger side. A cute young woman was in the driver’s seat – at least she looked cute from what Hank could see of her from this angle. Must be Ashby’s girlfriend, Liza.

Hank waved to Ashby as the android began heading his way and she grinned back at him, always polite.

“No, I mean it,” Cole insisted. “He said he couldn’t stand up anymore after we got back to his office. Then like half an hour ago, he said he was tired. Like, I’ve never heard an android say that before. But he’s sort of zoned out. Like his eyes are open, but he stopped talking. I’ve just been playing games on this phone and letting him rest or whatever.”

“Strange... Hang on, Cole. Hey, Ashby! Got a minute?” Hank asked as the officer got closer.

“For you, Lieutenant? Always.” She came to a stop at his side, ready for duty without even knowing what it was he needed. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Weird question. Can androids get tired?” Like Cole, Hank had never heard an android claim physical exhaustion.

Ashby considered the question, her LED spinning briefly yellow, before she shook her head. “Parts can wear down and need replacement, but we don’t physically get tired. However, we can become emotionally drained, just like humans.” She frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“This guy I know… He’s an android-“ Hank began and Ashby started smiling. He waved her off. “Not now. Listen. He said he was tired and then zoned out. Any ideas?”

Any teasing grin left Ashby’s face. “He needs his charging station. Immediately.”

“Cole, you’re in his office, right?” Hank felt cold. What would happen if Connor’s battery ran out? Androids could normally function for a year on a single charge, though it was recommended to recharge monthly. But if the virus was damaging Connor’s components then– “Do you see his charging station? They’re like… round discs on the floor.”

Cole hummed on the other end of the phone. Then, “Oh! Yeah, I think I see one of those things.”

“Can you get Connor to it? His battery is probably too low.” He didn’t mean to sound as worried as his voice came out, but this whole virus thing was really messing with Hank now that Connor was infected and Kamski was a fuckin’ piece of shit.

He heard Cole shifting and then grunting. He hummed again before saying, “Uh. I think I’m gonna need to go get Mr. Josh or Mr. Markus to help me.”

The image of his son trying to lift Connor and failing was both funny and cute, and Hank actually chuckled. “What? You can’t move one android?”

Cole bristled, his voice thick with a pout. “He’s heavy! I’m only twelve, Dad! I’m not Superman!”

Hank laughed again, drawing a confused look from Ashby. “Okay, I’m sorry. I would probably need help too. Okay?”

“Okay, fine. I forgive you,” Cole conceded. God, Hank loved this kid.

“Good.” Hank sobered under Ashby’s concerned stare. “Hey, you go get someone to help you. But call me back if you can’t get anyone or if something else happens. I’ll drive over, okay?”

Cole agreed and they said goodbye. Hopefully he found someone quick, because Hank didn’t know if his heart would survive a phone call from his son saying he couldn’t find anyone or that it took too long and Connor’s battery had run out.

Beside him, Ashby was still staring and waiting, so Hank took pity on her. “My son. He’s with Connor, er, my android friend. They’re at Jericho, so he should be able to find someone to help. The whole building can’t be empty, right?”

Her eyes widened. “Jericho?” Her fingertips came up to briefly touch her lips. “You have impressive friends, Lieutenant. I hope they can get him to a charging port soon.”

With an agreeing grunt, Hank motioned for her to lead the way inside. He got the first door for her but she got the second for him. After that, everything was automatic. Funny how that worked.

“So…” Ashby scanned her ID and stepped through into the bullpen. She briefly waited for Hank to do the same before she continued. “Have you considered what I said before? Could this android friend be your match?”

“Um… It might be possible,” Hank admitted, and that teasing grin started to sneak back onto her face. “Now don’t get your hopes up. We haven’t matched or anything. Besides, if we don’t solve this case, it’s not gonna matter.”

Gosh, he was starting to feel bad about wiping the grins off her face. Now she was straight up frowning – full on condolences mode. “I’m so sorry. He… He’s infected?”

Hank rubbed the back of his neck as he stopped by her desk. She stepped up to her chair but did not sit. “Yeah,” he said, tired. “And Kamski was a total fucking bust. The asshole all but admitted the virus originated on his machines, but he refused to a search because he said we had no proof. Also, he claims to have made the anti-virus, but he gave it away to some android without telling them what they had. And he said he wouldn’t give me a copy of it unless I paid him for it. As much as I wish I could, the department isn’t gonna cover that.”

“That would be the mayor’s call,” Ashby agreed, frowning more. “I’ll send an email immediately. Perhaps he’ll see the benefits before the lost funds.”

Sighing, Hank started walking toward his own desk. “You do that. It’s as good as any ideas I’ve got.”

Ashby sat down in her chair, though Hank knew she could compose emails standing just as well. It was probably so people didn’t look at her funny. Hank didn’t care either way. Hell, she could stand on her head and juggle while she sent emails and filed paperwork and made inquiries for all Hank gave a shit. He just wanted to solve the fuckin’ case.

Hank sank into his chair and dropped his head into his hands. How the fuck was he gonna find this android Kamski talked to? The guy probably met with dozens of androids every day. CyberLife was full of them. He could have dropped it on a desk or handed it off with the office mail or any number of untraceable things.

“Fuck,” Hank murmured, pressing absentmindedly at his chest with one hand while he held his head with the other.

“It’s not too late, Lieutenant,” Ashby assured from her desk. He couldn’t look over at her. He knew she’d look sympathetic and he just couldn’t take it. “We’re going to find the antivirus.”

“Yeah…” Tell that to his chest. It wouldn’t stop aching. The stress from the case was just building and building under his skin.

After a moment of silence, in which Hank thought he had ended the tough discussion, Ashby’s voice sounded again. This time she sounded like she was standing right beside his desk.

“Lieutenant. Forgive me. Did you say your son was with Connor at Jericho?” she asked.

“What of it?” Hank grunted, still not opening his eyes, although he did stop rubbing at his chest.

“Your son has been missing for six years,” Ashby pointed out, lowering her voice. That grabbed Hank’s attention. He slowly opened his eyes and looked up at the woman standing on the other side of his desk. “Excuse me, sir. How can your son be at Jericho?”

A smile tried to lift Hank’s lips, but he tampered it down after only a twitch. “Connor,” he murmured. “He did what no one in this precinct could do. He crossed boundaries and jurisdictions. He found Melissa and Cole, and then he helped Cole get to Detroit. I dunno where Cole came from… but he showed up this morning like a fuckin’ miracle.”

Ashby leaned on the edge of the desk to look less imposing to anyone else looking on. She gently clasped her hands together and gave a tiny, hopeful smile. “This is good news, Lieutenant. You finally found him. I’m so happy for you.”

Nodding, Hank grunted his agreement. “A lot happened this morning. I was so blown away by Cole’s appearance, by the news that Connor helped him get here… And by the realization that I might not get to keep either of them.”

“I don’t understand,” Ashby said. She tilted her head in such an innocent way that Hank almost didn’t want to explain. But she’d been a loyal and helpful friend so far during the investigation. And he could always use more trustworthy friends.

“I… Connor’s infected. He’s got barely two days before he shuts down.” He ran a hand through his hair. “And yesterday, Melissa called me to accuse me of stealing Cole. I didn’t know what she was on about until Cole showed up this morning. But Mel, she said she’s coming to Detroit to get Cole back. I thought she was crazy, but now he’s here. Now she could really find him and take him again. I don’t have much of a case in my favor to keep him.”

Though he wasn’t looking directly at her, Hank still noticed the color change of her LED as she did some deep thinking. But there was nothing to think about. Hank had marginally improved his life by going to meetings, but that wasn’t going to be enough to convince a judge once they looked at his record for the past six years. And Jeffrey suggested using the case as leverage, but they hadn’t solved the damn thing yet.

“If she tries to take him, you’ll have my support, Lieutenant,” Ashby finally said. “I’m sure Detective Chen will agree.”

“Thank you. I mean it.” Hank hadn’t felt support like this in a long time. Well, he had Jeffrey, obviously. He knew he’d have the Captain’s support if it came to it. And more recently he had Connor, but thinking of Connor just made Hank anxious over their timeline. Now he had Officer Ashby and maybe even Detective Chen. Hm. He wondered if he should broach the topic of first names when they solved the case.

Ashby removed herself from his desk and returned to her own. “Oh, and after we save Connor’s life,” she said, sitting down and turning to her terminal, “I do expect you to bring him and Cole in so we can meet them.”

A smile broke out on Hank’s face. This android was too much. “I’ll get right on that,” he said. And he didn’t miss the way she made Connor’s survival an absolute.

Shit, he needed to tell Fowler about Cole too. Despite being friends, he was strangely not looking forward to the conversation. Jeffrey would be happy for him, he knew. But Jeffrey was also obligated to uphold the law, and there was bound to be something bad about a kid making a trip from who-knows-where to Detroit to see his deadbeat cop of a dad against the wishes of his mom.

Hank’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he quickly pulled it out. He didn’t even let the first ring end before he was accepting the call.

“Connor? You alright?” he asked, worry in every syllable. At the other desk, Ashby did a terrible job of pretending not to notice. Detective Chen came in then too, setting her bag down on her desk beside Ashby’s.

“I’m okay.”

“Are you hurt?” Hank asked, which was the stupidest question to ask someone who’s body was rapidly shutting down on them.

“No. I’m okay,” Connor assured. _“_ It appears… the virus has begun its work on my internal battery.”

Glancing up, Hank realized he had an audience. Chen kept trying to get Ashby to answer her with knowing looks and hand motions, but Ashby didn’t seem to communicate very well wordlessly. When Hank glanced up, they both went so stiff that Chen might as well have been an android too.

Hank stood up and started making his way to a less populated area of the precinct. “Jesus! You sure you’re gonna make it two more days?” Hank cursed softly. “I just mean… Connor, I don’t have the antivirus yet. Kamski wouldn’t help.”

Good-for-nothing cocksucker that he was. Damn it. Hank hated being a disappointment, especially now when lives were literally on the line.

“It’s alright, Hank,” Connor said, almost like he knew Hank’s self-deprecating thoughts.

But what exactly was alright? Because Connor was fucking dying and somehow he just kept sounding like that stupid other android, Ralph. With his ‘Ralph is not afraid to die. He’s been expecting it’ bullshit. Well Connor sure as hell had been expecting it for eight days now, and he sounded almost as somber as that poor, injured android, and damn it, Hank wished he could just do _more_.

There was a somber silence between them, neither sure what to say. The case had hit another wall, and Connor’s time was running out. If his legs weren’t working and his battery was fried, Connor wouldn’t even be able to leave his office. He was stuck there until Hank or someone spat up an antivirus. That sounded fucking awful. And it was all –

Hank cleared his throat, his thoughts from the car returning. “Say… You’ve been infected for eight days, right? But that’s how long we’ve been texting.”

He paused there, making the statement sound more like a question. Connor could deny it. He could tell Hank that he’d noticed the virus before starting to talk to Hank. Hell, he could say he noticed it after but didn’t say anything because it was too late. He could say anything at all as an explanation.

But Connor didn’t say anything, and that said enough.

Hank cursed softly. He’d brought his work home with him and given it to Connor before they even got to know each other. “Shit, Connor. You could have told me.”

“I know. But I didn’t want to burden you in the midst of your investigation. I anticipated my processors would put up a better fight, and it would not end up being a problem.” He hesitated in his explanation. Hank wanted to argue the point, wanted to tell Connor he was a fuckin’ idiot, but Connor spoke again before Hank mustered the strength. Voice quieter than before, Connor said, “I’m sorry.”

“Shit,” Hank said again. He pinched the bridge of his nose and faced the wall. He did not need people seeing him have a mini breakdown. Nor did he need anyone overhearing him. Damn it. His soul mate was dying and it was all his fucking fault. How much shittier could his cosmic destiny be?

God, did Connor even know? Hank was about 100% positive that Connor was his soul mate – what with his interests matching up with what Hank knew of his soul mate but also with how familiar and true Connor felt. It was like coming home even when they met in parks. God, Connor couldn’t just go out like this. He had to know.

Hank’s voice sounded more than a little frenetic when he said, “I mean, you know that we’re… I mean, we’re probably –” Hank cut himself off with a sigh of aggravation. It was like trying to make a love confession. And maybe it was similar, but it still shouldn’t be this hard.

Connor took a deep, unnecessary breath.

“I know.”

“You – you know?” Hank asked. Connor knew? But if they both knew, then why were they still dancing around each other? Were they talking about different topics? Though he cursed, he didn’t sound angry when he said, “The fuck’s that mean?”

“I’ve never put much thought into marks and my soul or anything of the sort,” Connor admitted. Hank sucked in a sharp breath. Connor had said it. He’d brought up souls. There was no mistaking the topic now. “Simon often grew exasperated with my disinterest, if I’m honest. So it was particularly noticeable to everyone here when I took interest in you and your situation. After a few days, even someone like me couldn’t pretend not to notice.”

Running a hand through his hair, Hank let out a shaky breath. “Okay, but damn. That means we’ll beat this, right?”

He wanted Connor to give him hope. They were soul mates. After all these years and all his fuck ups, Hank had finally found the person who could understand him better than anyone. That had to mean something. It had to be good news. As much as Hank was a pessimistic piece-of-shit, he didn’t really think the universe was that cruel to give him his soul mate for barely two weeks. They could still pull this off. Right?

“Yeah,” Connor said. “You can do this, Hank.”

At that moment, Hank’s attention was snagged by a smug voice and blur of brown out of the corner of Hank’s eye. When he looked toward the station entrance, he saw Reed walking in and laughing with another detective.

Hank’s chest constricted. “Fucker,” he mumbled. Forget Hank. This was all Gavin Reed’s fault. He engineered a virus and set it loose, and then he infected Hank’s shit which then infected Connor. It was literally all that shithead’s fault.

Eyes still on Reed, Hank spoke back into his phone. “Don’t shutdown prematurely on me, Connor. I think I just figured out a way to get a lead. I’ll call you later.”

“Goodbye, Hank,” Connor said, and it sounded entirely too melancholy. Fuck. “Good luck.”

The call ended before Hank could say anything in return. He glanced down at the screen, anxiety rolling in his stomach. Or maybe that was the withdrawal systems of alcoholism. Either way, he was gonna use all those feelings against Reed.

Pocketing his phone, he strolled over to Reed and snatched up the front of his stupid leather jacket.

“Ey! What’s your damage, Anderson?” Reed sneered. “Get your fucking hands off me.”

“I can kick your ass here or we can take this somewhere private, asshole. Your choice.” Hank stared down into Reed’s eyes, his fury evident. He didn’t want to have to break Reed’s face, but he sure as fuck would if the guy didn’t cooperate.

“Oh, we’ll go somewhere private, but it’s not me who’s gonna get hurt.” Reed stepped closer to Hank, puffing up his chest like some high school testosterone pill popper. Hank released him and Reed straightened out his jacket purposefully. “Lead the way, granddad.”

Hank turned and started walking. They needed somewhere private, virtually soundproof. The closest thing available was the interrogation rooms. As he passed his desk, Hank glanced at his team. They both sent him curious looks, and Hank gave a quick raise of his eyebrows, trying to indicate he had a plan. Ashby, it turned out, could communicate wordlessly. Her expression set into a serious line and she gave a curt nod. Almost imperceptible.

Thank god for Ashby, Hank thought. He led Reed to the room and then motioned for him to enter first. The young detective strode in like a peacock. Inside, Hank shut and blocked the door before stepping over to the security glass. With the press of a button, a light came on behind the glass and revealed the room behind it to be entirely empty.

“Just you and me, Reed,” Hank said, his voice threatening. He clicked the button to turn the lights off again.

Reed snorted. “You think you scare me, Anderson? You can’t lay a finger on me.”

“Why’s that? ‘Cause your brother’s a big shot that pays for so much of our tech? ‘Cause he’s got the mayor by the balls?” Hank smirked at the proud look on Reed’s face. “Yeah I don’t give a rat’s ass who your family is. See, dirty cops are just dirty cops. And murderers are murderers. No family relation is gonna save you from that.”

Reed crossed his arms. “You ain’t got shit on me,” he said, self-assured.

“Oh no?” Hank asked. “We searched your place and your terminal today – with warrants and everything. Pretty sure someone said we got proof of you sending me an email with the virus attached.” It was a shot in the dark. Hank hadn’t talked to Chen yet, so he had no idea what the search had come back with.

Reed chuckled. “What, is your glorified police-android all sick now? I guess that whole ‘everlasting beauty’ thing isn’t gonna stick with her much now, is it?”

Rage sprang out of Hank in a flash. He had Reed against the wall before he even really noticed his own movement. The younger man grunted from his back colliding with the cement, but then he just glared up at Hank.

"Listen, you fucker. I know you're behind it." Hank got right up in Reed's face. "And now I've got the evidence. Your brother gave you up."

" _Half_ -brother," Reed growled. "And fuck Elijah. He cares about those freaks more than he cares about people."

Hank wanted to scream that androids _were_ people, but he knew he'd have as much luck convincing the wall as convincing Reed. So instead he let the comment pass and moved on.

"I don't give a shit about your messed up family life. I just want to know if you've got the antivirus." He didn't let up his grip on Reed, even as the younger man kept trying to wiggle his way out. "Kamski said he gave it to someone, and you're suspect number one."

"Elijah only cares about his robots. Why the fuck would he give me, of all people, the cure? If he knows I started this shit, then he knows I'd just burn the damn antivirus." He finally managed to shove Hank off. "Try asking one if his precious pieces of plastic."

"There's a million androids, Reed. How the fuck am I supposed to figure out which ones your brother likes most?" Hank felt like his skin was crawling. Reed was such a piece of shit. Everything out of his mouth was a slur.

"I don't know and I don't care." Reed held his hands out. "I just kill the things. You're the one that has to worry about saving them."

"You son of a bitch." Hank stepped up to Reed again and cracked his fist against the detective's face.

Reed hit the floor like a sack of potatoes, and Hank was on him in an instant. While Reed recovered from the head spinning hit, Hank ripped his arms behind him and cuffed him with his own handcuffs.

Groaning, Reed said, "You're gonna regret this."

"Yeah? Probably not as much as you will. For me it'll be well worth the punishment." Hank got up, leaving Reed on the floor, and sneered. "Can't fucking stand dirty cops."

Reed's nose was starting to bleed, but Hank didn't care. He left the room in a fury. As he stepped into the hall, the door to the observation room opened and Ashby came out. They shared a look before closing the doors simultaneously.

"You get it?" Hank asked.

"I think the video failed to record the last second or so." She didn't sound particularly upset about this. "Unfortunately, Detective Reed will have to rely on only his word about the assault."

Hank smirked. "What a shame." He slipped his hands into his pockets as they headed back to their desks. "Send that video to the captain, would you? I think we just made our second arrest."

"Done." She smiled at him. "Also, I received a message from Markus Manfred, the leader of Jericho. He believes the danger of interfering has dropped to an acceptable level at this point in the investigation. They've offered their resources to help with the search. I've taken the liberty of accepting and have already set them up to analyze Elijah Kamski's schedule and movements over the past few weeks. We'll find who he gave the antivirus to soon."

"Music to my ears, Ashby." Hank waved her off when they got to the bullpen. She could go back to her desk but Hank had to detour into the captain's office. It was time to explain how much Hank had absolutely ignored Fowler's orders and investigated Reed and Kamski. The idea of Reed rolling around on the floor, trying to get up or escape his handcuffs, gave Hank the energy to walk through the door and face his punishment.

\--- --- ---

[[Replay as Connor?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180215/chapters/56924356)

[[Continue as Connor?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180215/chapters/57025045)


	10. Chapter 10

Reed in a holding cell was like a car accident on the highway. A backup of officers stopping to look caused the hallway to clog up with curious eyes. Reed cussed at the first couple and then realized they only stared longer if he patronized them. After an hour, he only shouted if they lingered long enough to make his skin crawl. Which still happened quite a lot.

Even at his desk, Hank could hear the muffled sounds of Gavin Reed. At first it was music to his ears. Now he was starting to tune it out. Fowler had been pissed about being ignored, of course, but the video Ashby sent clearly showed Reed saying "I'm behind it" and "I just kill the things." There was really no getting around that.

Chen pouted about not being there to see Reed get socked in the face. After a conspiratorial glance around the room, Ashby sent an email to Chen that contained the mysteriously missing few seconds. It brought such a grin to the Asian officer's face that she watched it five times before she destroyed the evidence.

The search of Reed’s home had turned up no antivirus, but three copies of the virus were found on different distribution devices. If the parking meters hadn’t been enough, Reed had been prepared to try other methods. But though he had the virus, there was no computer system in Reed’s house capable of coding it. His home laptop was seized, and while it had plenty of porn on it, it had no coding files. What Kamski had said must be right – Reed had engineered the virus using his brother’s systems. He’d probably built the thing off a different, harmless program his brother had already been working on.

A warrant to search CyberLife was in the works, as was the request for funds to enlist Elijah Kamski to make an antivirus. In the meantime, Jericho was subtly gathering data about the workings of CyberLife. Who did Kamski meet with regularly? What was his schedule? Who did he like? It was slow work because they were hacking a hacker, basically, and didn't want him to notice.

"Hold the fort, you two. I'm gonna grab a bite," Hank said around six in the evening. He'd try to head over to Jericho soon, but he had this gut feeling that they were close to something.

It appeared food would have to wait, however, because as soon as he was out of the precinct he saw a terrifyingly familiar face. It was Melissa, sitting on a bench and waiting for him like an angry specter. Fuck. Well it was probably for the best. Hank had been about to find the closest fast food possible, and no way would Connor have approved of it.

Hank approached his ex, and she rose from the bench in silence. For a tense moment, they just stared at each other. Hank remembered a time when they would have been overjoyed to be near one another, when seeing her was the highlight of his day. But those days were long dead.

“Is he here?” Melissa asked into the evening air.

“No,” Hank said and shoved his hands into his pockets. Melissa’s expression fell with disappointment. “He’s with a friend.”

Her eyes were alight. “I knew it. I knew you were behind this escapade of his.”

“Hold your god damn horses, Melissa.” Hank groaned. This woman – “I didn’t know he was comin here until he showed up this morning.” Suddenly his forehead knit and he frowned. “Hang on, how’d you get here so fast?”

She shrugged noncommittally. “I have a friend at the airport. She got me on a last minute flight.” Then she shook her head. “That’s not the point. Where is my son?”

“ _Our_ son,” Hank corrected. “Whom I have just as much a right to see as you do, by the way. He’s safe, and I’m not just gonna roll over and let you take him away again.”

“You –!” Melissa almost shouted but she caught herself and instead fumed in silence.

Twelve years ago, they had been happy. Hank remembered they used to love going places together, and he hadn’t cared that she wasn’t his soul mate. He didn’t think she cared either. But something changed when she got pregnant. All their fun evaporated, and the happy smiles came more and more from only Hank. Sure, he’d tried to talk to her about it, but she’d always claimed everything was fine. She was excited, she said, to have the baby and to be a mom. She wanted to be a good mom. The best. And she was. They raised Cole together, gave him everything a little boy could need and plenty of what he wanted. But Melissa was always looking over her shoulder, and she wouldn’t say why.

Then one day she was gone.

“Hey,” Hank started, voice calm and measured. “All those years ago…. Why’d you take off like that? What’d I do that was so bad?”

The fire didn’t leave her, but she took a deep breath to at least attempt a civil conversation. “You weren’t my soul mate, Hank. We weren’t meant to be together. And I knew I was never going to find my real soul mate if I just hung around you. It’s as simple as that.”

“Fine, we weren’t a match. But that doesn’t explain why you took Cole. Why you left no note? Why you hid?” The betrayal still stung him deep, even after all this time. He was trying really hard not to get pissed off by the memories, but he felt it burning in his stomach.

“What kind of mother leaves her kid behind?” Melissa snapped. “I _had_ to take him with me! But I knew you. You would never leave me alone if you knew where I went. You’d always be around to see Cole, to see _me_ , and the point was to get away from you. What kind of soul mate would bother trying to meet me with a cop hanging around?”

Hank laughed mirthlessly. What the fuck. What kind of logic was that? “You crazy… You don’t get it at all, do you?” he asked. Melissa glared daggers at him, and he promptly ignored her. “Soul mates aren’t cosmic guessing from the universe. It isn’t some half-assed dart throw while God was drunk with some buddies. It’s not possible to just ‘miss’.”

“Yeah, but what if it is? What if I missed out on meeting mine because I was with you? I’m forty-seven, Hank!” Her voiced cracked a bit on the age.

“What the fuck’s age got to do with it?” Hank frowned hard. “You really think something as cosmically designed as a ‘soul mate’ could be so easily fucked up just because you had a kid with a cop? Just because you’re not young anymore?”

After all his years of thinking along the same lines as her, could he really hold this against her? Yeah, he thought he could. Because Hank had only started doubting the reality of his soul mate after Melissa went and stole Cole, after she ripped Hank’s heart out without so much as an apology. Hank used to believe the universe had a plan, and eventually it would get around to showing him his soul mate, and he didn’t care how old he was when it happened. Hell, he’d been in his mid-forties when he’d finally had a kid! Obviously there was no perfect clock for this shit. But the tragedy of losing his family had jaded Hank. Then along came Connor, and that feeling of hope and light had slipped back in before Hank could even imagine fighting it.

“I’m almost sixty, Mel,” he pointed out and held out his blank hand. “I think I finally found ‘em, but we haven’t matched yet. That’s where Cole is. He’s with my soul mate. And once I finish this case I’m working on, I’m gonna prove we’re a match, and then if Cole wants to stay with me, I’ll let him stay. And you should too. The only person putting me between you and anyone or anything else is you.”

Melissa lowered her eyes to the concrete and shifted her purse on her shoulder. “A good mother can’t leave her child behind,” she murmured like a chant she’d memorized.

“Who the fuck said you’d be leaving him behind?” Hank asked. “I’m not askin’ you to never see him again. But he’s twelve now, and you stole the last six fuckin’ years from me without any concern for anyone’s feelings but your own. Damn. I think you owe it to all of us to let Cole decide where he wants to stay.”

Shit. Did Hank just give a fucking speech? And he hadn’t even cussed her out or yelled. Well, he’d cussed, but that wasn’t the same thing as cussing someone out. Honestly, Hank had expected to lose his god damn mind the next time he saw Melissa in person. He was kinda proud of himself, and he bet Connor would be proud too.

In front of him, Melissa looked smaller than she had when she first stood up. Suddenly, Hank noticed how thin she was, and her hair had lost some of the sheen he used to love. Living in hiding had not been kind to her. All at once he felt pity and anger mix in his chest. What kind of lunatic dragged a kid into that kind of lifestyle? Why had she done this to herself? To them? Damn it, they could have worked this out six fucking years ago if she’d acted like the god damned adult she was.

Melissa opened her mouth and raised her eyes to meet his, but before she could speak someone called out to Hank from the precinct doors. Both of them looked up and saw Ashby there. She seemed excited, which gave a shot of hope straight to Hank’s heart.

“Ashby, what’s up?” he asked as the android quickly made her way over.

“I believe we have solved the case, Lieutenant.” She came to a stop beside him, completely ignoring Melissa as though she weren’t even there.

Hank’s chest felt swollen. “You found the android? Where? Who is it?”

Ashby’s couldn’t stop grinning, though she was making a valiant effort to seem professional. “Kamski sticks to a consistent routine. Over sixty percent of his days are spent inside CyberLife. But last week, he deviated from his schedule. He left a meeting and rushed to a nearby repair center.”

“And why do we care? Did you find surveillance of him handing over the antivirus?” Hank asked. This sounded more like suspicions, not hard evidence.

“No, Lieutenant. There are no security cameras in the consultation rooms. The information is relevant because of whose consultation he interrupted.” She held up her work tablet. On the screen was the CyberLife Repair Center log. The ten a.m. patient’s information was enlarged, and there was a photo of Connor, serious and professional, staring out at Hank. “Hank,” Ashby said, using his name for the first time. “Is this…?”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” Hank pushed his hair back from his face, like that would change the photo and name on the screen. “What are the chances?”

It wasn’t a real question, and Ashby didn’t answer it. But in Hank’s mind, he was connecting the dots. When he’d met with Kamski, hadn’t he thought ‘God this must be what Connor went through with his therapist”? But Kamski going to see Connor was already a coincidence. Could it even be possible that Kamski was Connor’s fucked up therapist? More than that, was it possible that Connor already had the antivirus and just didn’t know it?

“I need to leave right now,” he said, a little breathless.

Ashby nodded. “Call me if you need any assistance.”

\--- --- ---

Somehow, and don’t ask Hank how, Melissa wormed her way into the car with Hank. He had literally done everything but forcibly shove her out. But she knew Hank was going to see Connor, and she called Hank out on Connor being his soul mate, which meant Hank was going to Cole, and that made her impossible to reason with. She was coming along. End of story.

“Just pretend I’m not here,” she said.

“Yeah, like that’s fuckin’ possible,” he grunted back.

He parked the car and looked up at the Jericho building for the first time. Ten years ago, when Jericho first formed, they had chosen a blank office building so as to blend in with their surroundings. Jericho didn’t want to stand out as original. They wanted equal rights, not to start fights. The Jericho building as it stood now was that same office building, except they now owned every room in the ten stories and large mosaics and graffiti decorated just about every square foot of space of the exterior. The building no longer blended in to its surroundings.

“Stop gawking and take me to see Cole,” Melissa ordered, but the bite was lessened by the way she shivered in the cold evening air.

“You’re a lot bossier than I remember you being,” Hank grumbled, but he didn’t like standing in the cold anymore than she did, so he led the way to the front doors.

An android waited at reception despite the lateness of the hour. She smiled, and Hank remembered back before androids ‘deviated’ when a model just like this one used to man the front desk at the precinct.

“How can I help you, Lieutenant Anderson?” she asked. Damn, androids accessed public information quickly.

“I’m here to see Connor Arkay. It’s extremely urgent.” Hank glanced around for an elevator or some kind of magic directory that would tell him where to go.

The woman smiled politely. “Just one moment, please.” Her LED cycled blue for several moments, though her eyes never left Hank’s face. Then her LED settled and she said, “The elevators are to the right. Someone will meet you on the top floor and show you where to go.”

Hank let out an impressed whistle as he and Melissa walked toward the elevators. Top floor? That’s how you knew you’d made it, or so people said. Connor didn’t just work for Jericho. He was a top dog at Jericho. Not THE top dog – that was Markus Manfred – but definitely up there.

The elevator was too slow, and Hank found himself fidgeting in place. Melissa gave him an irritated look but said nothing. Eventually, she reached out and held his arm still so he’d stop swinging it, though. All the fidgeting was mindless for Hank. His thoughts were divided into two hyper focused categories. One, Connor could very well already be in possession of the antivirus and just not know it, making everything perfect. Two, Melissa undoubtedly planned to convince Cole to go home as soon as she saw him, or potentially take him by force. Unfortunately there was no way to leave her behind at this point, or really at any point. He just had to drag his anxiety up an elevator and down a hall, apparently, because it refused to leave him alone. And that anxiety’s name was Melissa Hendricks.

Finally the elevator dinged opened. Melissa took a step forward the second the doors began to part, then she immediately retracted it when a young black man was revealed, standing directly in their path. Although Hank recognized the new face from television, he’d never actually met Markus Manfred in person. Somehow the man looked younger in person, but that was probably because he was always in debates and being a politician whenever footage of him aired on television. Here, his forehead wasn’t knit in frustration or anger. Here, his eyes were soft with concern.

“Lieutenant Anderson,” Markus greeted and bowed his head slightly in respect. His heterochromatic eyes flickered to Melissa and narrowed in confusion for a brief moment before he looked back to Hank. “I didn’t expect any extra guests tonight. Is everything alright?”

“How ‘bout we get off the elevator and talk on the way?” Hank suggested good naturedly. He stepped forward and Markus moved out of his way, though he still gave Melissa a confused look as she followed. “I need to see Connor. It’s possible the antivirus has been closer than we thought all along.”

Markus motioned down the hall with his arm before he began to lead. “Simon’s just told me. He got a message from Officer Ashby.” It was so hard to read an android with no LED. You couldn’t see when they were connecting to the internet or receiving communications. This made them more human, but it meant Hank had no idea if Markus literally meant ‘just’ now or before Hank showed up in the building. “Connor is in his office with Cole. The last time I checked on them, they were playing cards.”

Melissa surged forward with unexpected speed and tried to bypass Hank and Markus. Without so much as a flinch or glance in her direction, Markus sped up to stay ahead. Hank had not signed up for god damned _sprinting_ down this hallway. Jesus Christ.

“Ma’am. I would ask you not to run in the office,” Markus said, calm as day.

“I’m not gonna let you guys block me from getting in that room with my son,” Melissa answered. Damn, the idea hadn’t even occurred to Hank.

The two of them were moving so fast that Hank quickly fell behind. He was too out of shape and too old and he just didn’t care enough. After passing several doors, Hank slowed to a stop to catch his breath. Two doors down, Markus and Melissa were matching steps.

“Connor’s office is on your left, Lieutenant,” Markus called back.

Brow knit in confusion, Hank looked to his left and saw the nameplate by the door read ‘Connor Arkay’. Well, shit. Whaddaya know? Down the hall, Melissa jolted and tripped to a stop while Markus smoothly turned and headed back to Hank.

“No you don’t,” Melissa grunted, hurrying after him.

Hank was still just staring at the door. He was about to see where Connor lived and hopefully find the antivirus inside. This could be the end of it all. Markus stepped up beside him and grabbed the door handle.

“I’ll go in first,” he said as Melissa slid up to them.

“Yeah. Sure.” Hank didn’t really think any of this was a fuckin’ competition, but apparently Melissa did and Markus was going toe to toe with her.

Markus opened the door swiftly, revealing a bright clean office. Hank took a step to follow. Clearly he was moving too slowly, because Melissa put her hands on his back and started shoving him forward. Cursing, Hank stumbled rather than walked into the room.

“Lay off, Mel,” Hank snapped, regaining his footing. Then he saw the two in the chair and his jaw dropped.

Connor was sitting in an office chair, dressed in a new button up and clean slacks. Cole was sitting in his lap, dozing against the android’s collarbone like a little kid, and Connor’s arm – the one that had been ripped off and obviously replaced – was around Cole’s shoulders protectively. But what made Hank, and the others, freeze was Connor’s skin. Or lack thereof. All of Connor’s synthskin had been deactivated, so his polyalloy frame was entirely visibly. Normally it was a pristine white, but Connor’s wasn’t. The ash gray effect of the virus had spread to cover Connor’s face in large splotches. Without seeing it, Hank knew the gray was on Connor’s legs too, quickly working its way up toward the thirium drive that allowed Connor to function. The only piece still fully white that Hank could see was the new right arm.

It was terrifying. Not Connor without skin – Hank had seen plenty of androids with their skin turned off. No, it was terrifying seeing how far the virus had progressed, how little time they had, how much Connor was undoubtedly suffering. Hank’s stomach burned with guilt and sympathy.

Despite the sudden silence of the new group, their entrance had been clunky and loud. Cole stirred and pushed himself up, rolling his shoulder to regain proper blood flow. It only took a moment for him to notice the new group, including his mother, and he frowned. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Did you find the cure? W-When did mom get here?”

“Cole, hunny,” Melissa said, her voice torn between sweet and angry. “I came to take you home.”

The boy’s hand slipped around Connor’s forearm and held on tight. “I am home. I came back to Detroit, back to Dad.” His grip tightened. Hank’s heart felt swollen, like he’d been paid a huge compliment. “You don’t even want me in California. It’ll be easier for you if I stay here, right? So just… go back to Uncle Teddy, and I’ll stay here, and then we can all be happy.”

For the briefest of moments, Hank registered that his initial guess of where Melissa had been hiding had proved correct. She’d gone to her brother in California. Obviously she’d delayed getting there long enough that the initial searches missed her – that or Teddy was better at hiding her than they’d expected.

It only lasted a moment, though, because he heard the hurt in his son’s tone. He’d come home to Hank, but he was still sad about his mom. ‘It’ll be easier for you, right?’ Ugh. Stab Hank in the heart. The kid was too good for this fucked up world.

Melissa frowned, her forehead knit with confusion and concern. “Are you saying you weren’t happy?”

Instead of answering her, Cole turned to his father. His voice was too desperate when he asked, “Did you find the cure?”

Oh right.

“Kind of.” Hank strode across the room and knelt beside the chair. He looked up into Connor’s polyalloy face without flinching, even though all the gray made him hella fucking nervous. “Connor.”

“I can’t see out of my left eye,” Connor said sadly. The tone hurt Hank, but he wasn’t surprised since the whole component was gray. “Please… Lean to my right.”

Hank’s brow knit deeper than Melissa’s and he immediately did as requested. He clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and hoped this lead panned out. “Kamski said he gave the antivirus to an android. Did he give it to you?”

Please, he thought. Please say yes. Because it had to be here. As much as Connor said he had two days left, or one and a half, or whatever the fuck amount of time was left – it was clear that he didn’t have that amount of luxury. This was the only lead they’d found, and it had to pan out. It had to.

Connor closed his eyes and let out a sigh. “Kamski gave me many things, Hank. An antivirus is not one of them.”

“Fuck.” Hank dropped his head into his hand and rubbed at his forehead. If Connor didn’t have the antivirus, then Hank didn’t know what to do. He had to be missing something. There had to be an explanation.

Melissa groaned. “Could this room be more depressing? Cole, let’s go. Enough playing around.”

“Wait.” Hank raised his head, but his eyes weren’t focused on anything. He took a slow breath. Something about that word ‘playing’ was sticking in his head. “Wait, wait, wait.”

“No, Hank.” Melissa took a step forward, and Markus put an arm out to stop her.

“Not you,” Hank grunted. Aha! He remembered! He looked up into Connor’s eyes again. “Kamski’s assistant. She said I should tell you to play cards. Does that – Does that mean anything to you?”

Please, please, please. It didn’t make a lick of sense to Hank, but if an android was saying it to another android, it had to mean something. Right?

“Play… cards.” Connor’s words were slow – unfocused. Not a good sign. He frowned. His LED spun yellow.

Suddenly, Connor’s head jerked to look at his desk, and Hank and Cole leaned away in shock.

“Cole,” Connor said, tense. “In the top drawer of my desk.” Cole didn’t need to be told specifics. He was up and hurrying over in an instant. While he was ripping open drawers, Connor looked down at Hank. “Kamski… He barged into a consult I was having at a CyberLife Repair Center last week. He gave me an electronic playing card.”

Hank let out a gasp of relief as the same time as Markus did behind him. This rollercoaster of hope was going to give Hank a fucking heart attack. He glanced back at his son, then at Connor. “That’s gotta be it, then. That’s the antivirus!”

For a wonderful moment, Connor smiled and shared in the hopeful moment. But it was short lived. As Cole came hurrying back over, Connor frowned and turned away. It was like he didn’t want to see what Cole had brought them. In Cole’s hands was a stylized playing card. It looked like a grim reaper was smiling out from the shining paper. For a moment, Hank believed it really was just a playing card, but when he took it from Cole he immediately noticed the weight. This thing felt more like a metal credit card instead of a playing card.

Hank flipped the card over in his fingers and saw nothing electronic about it. Maybe an android could access it by scanning it with their palm like they did at grocery stores and stuff? He went to hand the card to Connor, but he found the android still looking away.

“What’s wrong?” Hank asked.

“Kamski made it,” Connor murmured, voice tense.

“So?” Hank held it out for Connor to take.

“So sometimes the cure is worse than the illness.” Connor looked down at that laughing grim reaper of a joker.

“The fuck it’s worse!” Hank shouted, shifting so he was more in Connor’s vision. He grabbed up Connor’s right hand and put the card in it. He knew Connor had some weird history with Kamski, and he knew Kamski was a fucking freak, but – “It’s this or death, Connor. How is this worse?”

Slowly Connor curled his fingers to hold the card. “He’s been in my head before, Hank. I have no wish to let him back in.”

Now Hank was really getting frustrated. He snatched the card back and then dropped it in Connor’s lap with a huff. Before Connor could lower his arm, Hank had him by the wrist. He stared with determination into Connor’s face.

“I know he’s a fucked up guy, Connor. I hated him and I only met him the one time. But isn’t this worth the risk?” He gently shook Connor’s hand around where Connor could see the blank skin. “Fuck, even if that isn’t, isn’t your life worth it?”

His soul mate. Hank had pretty much given up on his soul mate after Cole – not because he didn’t think they existed but because he was too miserable to give a shit. And he was getting old. Why, he always wondered, had the world decided he didn’t deserve a soul mate until he was an old man? When Cole had been born, Hank hadn’t cared about soul mates or matching. He had his son, and for the moment that was all he needed or wanted. When Cole had been four, the thought crossed Hank’s mind that perhaps his son was his soul mate, and that’s why it was taking so long to find each other. He’d tried pressing his hand to Cole’s and nothing happened. But he didn’t mind, because he loved Cole more than anything in the world.

Now he’d met Connor. In two short weeks he felt like he’d spent a lifetime with this android, and he didn’t want it all to end now. Especially not because of some asshole like Kamski psyching Connor out. God, Hank just wanted to find the antivirus so they could put this all behind them and move on to shit that mattered. Like officially matching with Connor. Like convincing Melissa to leave Cole behind, or to at least move close so Hank could see him again on a regular basis. Like curing the rest of the androids. Fuck, was it possible Ralph was still around to save? It was doubtful, but shit if Hank wasn’t willing to find out. But first he had to save Connor. If this card was really the antivirus…

Connor let out a little gasp. “What? What happened?” Hank asked, leaning forward.

“Give me the card,” Connor said, his voice quieter than before. It scared Hank more than it probably should have, that quiet request.

When Hank looked down to collect the card, Cole gasped too. Hank quickly looked back up and almost gasped himself. There was a slow and dreadful horror about watching an android’s eye turn ash gray. The little bit of Connor’s face that hadn’t been deadened now became the same blank color. No wonder Connor had gasped.

Hank quickly placed the card in Connor’s open hand.

Hank had seen androids interact with parking meters, with self-checkout at the store, with bus terminals, and dozens of other things. Normally their skin deactivated to give their circuits access, or whatever, but Connor’s skin had long ago deactivated. Something still changed when he accessed the card, though. A slight light briefly shone through the joints on his hand and then went dark.

Connor took a breath he didn’t need and shut his eyelids, which still worked. Still kneeling, Hank held his breath entirely, like they were switching species.

How long would it take to load the antivirus? How long to kill the virus? How long until they knew if it had worked? Jesus, just how long?

Connor was so still, with his gray face and his dead legs, and Hank was terrified they’d been somehow too late. Quietly, Cole stepped up beside Hank and put a hand on his shoulder. Hank put his hand on top and gave it a squeeze.

Finally, finally, Connor opened his dead eyes, but he didn’t speak. He sat still and silent. Cole’s hand squeezed Hank’s shoulder in anxiety. As much as Hank wanted to assure him, he didn’t know how.

“Connor?” Markus crossed the room. “Did it work?”

A little smile tugged on Connor’s lips. “I believe it did. Previously malfunctioning components have returned to full potential. However, all components destroyed by the virus are still not operational.”

“Yeah, you still look gray,” Cole noted.

Markus let out a relieved chuckle. “Okay. _That_ I think we can handle.”

Hank’s grip on Connor’s wrist tightened and he let out a heavy sigh. “Jesus,” he mumbled. God, was it really over? Had they saved Connor’s life? He felt queasy and drained. He needed a drink – not to cope but to stop his gut from rioting. He didn’t want to leave this room – not for a few more minutes at least.

Connor turned his hand over to let the card fall away and then moved to take Hank’s hand in his own. He squeezed Hank’s hand for support… for both of them. Hank squeezed back. He just needed a minute to breathe before he dealt with everything else. Just a moment to enjoy the victory. Was that too much to ask?

\--- --- ---

[[Replay as Connor?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180215/chapters/57025045)

[[Continue as Connor?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180215/chapters/57122719)


	11. Chapter 11

Of course Hank couldn’t have a break. Connor had barely given the all clear on his virus before another problem butted in.

Cole bent over to give Connor a hug, and from behind them came a long sigh. All the relief in Hank slipped away. In the heat of the moment, he’d completely forgotten to worry about Melissa. Releasing Connor’s hand, Hank stood up and turned around.

“Something the matter?” Hank asked sourly.

“No. I’m very happy you fixed your boyfriend.” She folded her arms across her chest. “But I came for my son. So since your drama is over, I’d like you to return him to me.”

Melissa had never been openly against androids. She’d spent more of her life with them as a norm than Hank had, so she expected them to be everywhere. In all his years knowing her, Hank couldn’t remember her speaking badly of an android for being an android – just badly of one cutting in line at the store or saying something mean to her or whatever. Her derogatory tone about Connor, then, had to be entirely born from her anger at Hank.

Hank didn’t get a chance to defend himself or his role as a parent. Cole stepped in front of him, as though Hank were the one in need of protecting, and said, “I don’t want to go home with you, Mom.”

Shaking her head, Melissa sighed again. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but that’s not how it works for children. You have to stay with your parent.”

“And I will.” Cole crossed his arms too, mimicking his mother beautifully. “I’m staying with Dad. I… I already know that I’m holding you back, so I’m not just being a selfish kid. I wanna stay with Dad for you too. Dad really, really wants me to be here in Detroit. Connor told me so.” He motioned back toward Connor then returned to crossing his arms. “And you really, really wanna find your soul mate, and you think you can’t do that with me and Dad around.”

“That’s –” Melissa spluttered, the rigidity knocked out of her. But she came up with no counter argument.

“It’s okay, Mom.” Cole stepped away from Hank and closer to Melissa.

As much as Hank wanted to pull him back, hold him close and keep him away from Melissa, Hank didn’t. He had to let Cole be his own person. Besides, Melissa would never make it out of the building if she tried to run. Pretty sure all the androids would get in her way.

“I’m not… I’m not mad at you.” Cole frowned tensely, his forehead unnaturally tight. He was trying not to cry. “I just want you to be happy. So it’s okay. I still love you.”

Melissa’s face was all scrunched up too. Easy tears must be a shared trait between them. She knelt down to be more on level with her son, though she now had to look slightly up at him, and he crossed over to stand within her grasp. Melissa reached up and pushed Cole’s hair back from his face, letting her fingers caress down cheek. Then she adjusted the lay of his light jacket. Busy hands. Mom hands.

“You know I love you, right?” she asked, voice low.

“I know.” Cole caught a loose strand of his mom’s hair and tucked it behind her ear.

“And you know I just wanted to be the best mom I could be.” She paused and bit her lip.

“I know.” Cole gave a weak smile. “Letting me live with Dad doesn’t make you a bad mom, y’know?”

Hank pressed his palm into his chest, rubbing at an ache under the skin. It was a pain of seeing how grown up his son was. The last time he’d seen Cole, the boy was still playing with stuffed animals and asking endless questions. Now here he was, consoling his mother into letting him stay in Detroit. He’d grown up so much while Hank let himself wither away. Hank had a lot of catching up to do.

“We – We can video chat whenever you want,” Cole continued. “And I’ll send you my report cards from school. And if I gotta go to the doctor, I can call you so it’ll be like you’re there with us. It’ll work out. Right?”

The first tears escaped Melissa’s eyes. She pulled Cole to her chest tightly and he held back just as strong. Hank had to turn away from the sight before he got misty eyed too. When he did, he saw the antivirus card. It had fallen to the floor by Connor’s feet and lay there, laughing up at them. Hank bent down and retrieved it, flipping it over a few times to see both sides. It still just looked like a card to him.

“Okay,” Melissa whispered.

“You mean –?” Cole pulled back to look his mother in the face.

Slowly, then with more assurance, Melissa nodded. “Your dad and I probably need to do some kind of legal thing, but… with video calls and the internet, who knows, maybe it won’t feel so bad.” She pet Cole’s cheek again. “I just want to see you smile more.”

“Same to you,” Cole said, a brighter smile spreading over his face. “I love you.”

Now they were smile crying. Jesus. Hank met the gaze of Markus, but then Markus noticed the card in his hands.

“Ms. Hendricks,” Markus said, breaking into the moment. “Perhaps I can loan you my office. A goodbye of this nature shouldn’t be rushed through. Please. Take as long as you need in private and settle things.”

Melissa’s eyes widened, taken aback by the kindness from the android who had distrusted her and tricked her. “Well… Thank you?”

“Detective,” Markus continued. He was doing a brilliant job of pretending none of this affected him. “I’ll take care of Connor, so you should return to the station. You have what you came for.”

With a grunt, Hank nodded. “Uh. Right. Yeah. I guess I…” He turned back to look at Connor, who, after a moment, smiled his little half smile.

“I’m not going anywhere, Hank. Get the antivirus to the others,” he said.

Hank flipped the card in his hands again, like testing the weight would give him clarity on the situation. They were right. He needed to get the antivirus to Ashby so she could upload the code to the web. Then they needed to do a sweep of the city, delivering the antivirus to androids who didn’t know to go online, who were too afraid to go online, or who were too damaged to access it.

“Alright. But I’ll be back as quick as I can.” Hank walked toward the door, but he hesitated by his son and ex-girlfriend. “I expect a fuckin goodbye this time,” he said with a grunt to Melissa. Then he looked to Cole and winked. “Hold the fort, kid.”

Cole gave a little salute, and then Hank let himself out – out of the room, out of the building, and temporarily out of conversations. But he’d be back, and both his boys better still be there.

\--- --- ---

The station was always quieter at night with the phones ringing less, about 70% of the usual staff on duty, and no delivery drivers coming in with someone’s lunch. But today Hank wished every officer was on duty. He needed all hands on deck.

“Ashby!” he shouted as soon as he walked in.

The android popped up from her chair, ready and waiting. Chen startled from where she’d been slowly starting to doze.

“Good news?” Chen asked, checking her uniform before also standing.

Without answering, Hank held out the playing card with the antivirus. “This needs to be everywhere immediately,” he said.

Ashby looked curiously down at the card for a moment, but then she must have noticed whatever signal Connor had because she lit up with excitement. “Right away, Lieutenant!” And she dropped back into her chair. She held the card in one hand and placed her other hand on her terminal. On her temple, her LED spun faster than Hank had ever seen one go.

“So good news, then,” Chen noted and rolled her shoulders. “Tell me what you need, Lieutenant.”

What did he need? What could Chen do right now? They needed the antivirus uploaded to the internet, taken to every repair center, and patrols on the streets.

“Ashby, pause what you’re doing and make copies of that. Is that a thing you can do?” Hank asked.

Nodding, Ashby’s LED went solid blue and she reached into her desk and brought out several memory sticks. She placed the card on the desk, slid a stick up beside it, and then set her hand over both. After a minute, she replaced the stick. Damn. Impressive and quick and so cool.

“Alright, when she’s done with that, I need a stick given to every CyberLife Repair Center in the city. Then we’re gonna give one to every patrol leaving the station so they can administer the antivirus to any androids they see on the sides of roads, in parks, whatever, wherever.” He’d take one himself too, because there was a specific android he wanted to check on. “Once we’ve gotten that far, we’ll start reaching out to any cases that might have been reported outside the city.”

With a nod, Chen walked around her desk to collect any finished memory sticks. By the time she got to Ashby’s desk, half a dozen were ready. “Well, at this rate, I’ll be ready to head out in ten minutes. Let me just hit the restroom, then I’ll grab another officer and head out.”

“Good job, both of you,” Hank said prematurely, and both women smiled back at him. When Chen walked away, Hank picked up one of the sticks. “Hey, I’m gonna head out with this one, alright? There’s someone I gotta try to find.”

“Good luck,” Ashby said and then continued her work. “I will need to borrow your stash of memory sticks soon.”

Hank laughed ironically. “Have at ‘em. God knows I never use the things.”

Then he pocketed the memory stick, turned, and headed right back out of the station. There was a very low chance that Ralph was still alive, but if the android had even the slightest chance, Hank wanted to give him the option of survival.

\--- --- ---

The main problem was that Hank had no idea where Ralph lived. The second problem was that it was after eight pm and he couldn’t see a damn thing. Still, Hank wanted to try. He started down the street from Chicken Feed, where he’d met Ralph just a few days ago, and then he walked in the direction Ralph had gone. He reasoned that with Ralph’s bum leg, he couldn’t have gone far.

But then, how long had Connor’s leg been out of commission before Hank discovered the truth? Cole said both of Connor’s legs had given out when they got to Jericho. That sort of shit didn’t just happen in an hour. Maybe Ralph was halfway across the city!

There was a small, old, abandoned house two blocks from Chicken Feed. It was foreclosed on years ago, and even the city hadn’t kept up with it. Normally Hank ignored it, but tonight the streetlights caught on a break in the fence and Hank was immediately interested. It could be Ralph. It could not be.

Hand on his gun, Hank pried open the break in the fence enough to let his large body through. Anyone inside would have heard, but he noticed no movement and heard no sound. Still he crept as quietly as possible, eyes searching the windows and glancing at potential hiding spots. There was no one outside – he walked the whole perimeter – and the windows and backdoor were sealed off. The only entrance, then, was the front door.

He turned his phone’s flashlight on and held his gun up beside it like he was working a case. Carefully, he opened the front door and stepped inside. There was no furniture left, so his light met only blank walls and dusty baseboards. A staircase led up in the far corner, but there was a kitchen and a bathroom downstairs that Hank wanted to clear first.

Still moving slow, Hank aimed his light away and sidestepped toward the kitchen. There was no door between the rooms, so he just peeked around the wall into the dismantled space. At first he thought it was just holes where appliances should have been and some broken counters, but as he moved to leave he thought he saw something on the floor. He took a step inside, bringing his light with him to see.

It was a body. Dressed in a green garbage worker uniform.

“Ralph,” Hank gasped and stepped fully into the room.

As he came over to the body, he noticed that the synthskin was completely gone, just like Connor’s had been. The chassis was also totally gray, whereas Connor had only been mostly gray. Hank dropped his hand into his pocket for the memory stick while his eyes took in the scarred polyalloy on the android’s face. Definitely Ralph.

“Ralph, you still in there?” Hank asked, pulling out the stick. He reached down and touched the android’s chin, meaning to tilt the head to see if the LED was still lit.

When his fingers touched, a noise escaped Ralph’s throat. His entire face was gray, and his lips didn’t move, but the whisper of a voice still edged out. The LED on his forehead was barely functioning, just barely putting out a light. Hank could only see it at all because of the darkness.

“…..who….”

“Hey, Ralph,” Hank greeted, relieved. “It’s me. Uh, that human you met the other day. Scared those dumbass kids away. Remember?”

“…a kind… human.”

God, he wasn’t moving at all. How would Hank even be able to administer this cure?

“Yeah. Hey. I got an antivirus here for ya. Gonna make you all better. But the thing is, I don’t know much about androids. You got somewhere I can attach this to download it?” Were there any parts still functioning for that? Maybe straight into the thirium drive?

“….ralph… does not… need it.” The voice was full of static and so soft that Hank could barely understand him.

“Don’t need it? Don’t be a fuckin idiot, Ralph. You’ve got two feet in the grave! Now just tell me what to do and we can save you.” Hank tilted Ralph to the side, looking for some kind of access port. As he did, his eyes glanced down at the android’s hand. Perhaps some part of him was hoping to see nothing but a white or gray chassis, no soul mark in sight. Then he could use that stupid ‘you haven’t met your soul mate’ lark.

But there _was_ a mark. A blob of ink that, to Hank, appeared to be some kind of animal – a gerbil or a mouse, maybe.

“Ralph, you’re soul mate…” Hank began, trying to find the words to say now that his initial argument was cold. Could he rouse the android by saying he should live for his soul mate? But where were they? Why weren’t they here?

“…gone…” Ralph’s voice was sad and tired. “Ralph is… alone.”

“Oh, buddy.” Hank felt for the poor android. He knew what it was like to lose someone, but this was a soul mate. Hank didn’t know how to console someone over that kind of loss. How could he convince Ralph to live?

“Ralph is… not afraid… Ralph is… okay…”

The voice, already marred by interference and lacking volume, grew quieter. Hank leaned in just to catch the words. Some part of him still hoped Ralph would give him a tip, tell him how to help. Should he call Connor? Or Ashby? They could help, right?

From Ralph’s unmoving mouth came the softest voice. “…do not… cry for Ralph…”

It felt like someone punched Hank in the gut. Suddenly everything sank in at once. The fact that Ralph was functioning enough to still speak to him was a miracle. He should have shut down long ago. There was no port, no interface left that could save Ralph. It was too late. Hank had saved Connor, but he’d been too late for so many others.

“I’m sorry,” Hank grunted, his hands curled into fists.

“….thank you…”

The faint blue glow of Ralph’s LED flickered and went out. Somehow the quiet room seemed even quieter, like maybe Hank had subconsciously been hearing the hum of a thirium pump and now it was gone. But thirium pumps were nearly silent. The new heaviness to the room was just the sound of death.

“Fuck.” Hank covered his face with his hand and took a long, slow breath.

He brought up his phone and clicked on his recent calls. If he hit the call button now, he’d redial Connor. He could hear Connor’s voice and remind himself that even though he’d been too late for Ralph, he’d still managed to save others.

But Connor was probably in stasis by now. If not for his own needs, then just to pass the time. It had to be boring as fuck to be stuck in a chair all night. Anyway, Hank was going to see him soon enough. He turned off his phone’s screen and let out a sigh.

Standing up, he looked down at Ralph’s gray body and his ratty old uniform. Fuck. Okay. He couldn’t just leave the poor guy here to rust over. Unlocking his phone again, Hank brought up his contacts and then hit the call button.

It rang three times before Detective Chen answered the phone.

“Lieutenant Anderson. Is everything alright?” she asked, all business. Her deliveries to CyberLife Repair Centers should be almost done. Or Hank hoped so.

“Yeah. I mean, no, but I’m fine. Listen, I know we hadn’t discussed the ones we couldn’t save but… Is there any way we can get a team together to collect the bodies of the deceased androids? I mean, if their loved ones want to keep them or bury them, that’s fine, but like for the ones who don’t have anybody.” Hank couldn’t take his eyes off the scar on Ralph’s face, the mark on his hand. He’d been alone for a long time, hadn’t he?

“We’re almost back at the station. I’ll get with the captain and figure something out,” Chen answered dutifully.

“Thanks. I’m gonna send you an address. When Fowler agrees, send somebody out to it.” Hank put the phone on speaker so he could start sending his location immediately.

Chen chuckled a little. “You’re always so sure of the captain.”

“Well that happens when you know each other for…” He cleared his throat. “A long enough time.” He didn’t need to put a year on it. It would just make him sound old.

She laughed again. “Sounds nice. Well, I’ll get on that team right now. See you back here soon?”

There was still so much to do. Hank thought of Connor and Cole, and to some tense extent Melissa. He’d get back to them by morning. He would. But for now… “Yeah. Yeah I’m heading back.” He took one last sad look down at Ralph’s body before he turned and left. There were still so many they had to save.

\--- --- ---

[[Replay as Connor?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180215/chapters/57122719)

[[Continue as Connor?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180215/chapters/57316276)


	12. Chapter 12

Yeah, so Hank didn't make it back by sunrise. He tried to. Really he did. They enlisted a second android to make copies of the antivirus, and almost every cop on the night shift was enlisted to help ship it out across the city. Computer programmers, including from Jericho, were called up to start writing programs to help disperse the cure into city mainframes, where the virus was waiting for new victims. It was a long and boring process for Hank, who didn't know jack about programming. But he had to be there. He was in charge. He gave the orders. He kept track of shipments.

He passed the fuck out at three in the morning.

Normally someone would have woken him up for direction, but when he groggily opened his eyes around seven am, he discovered that Ashby had been consulting his notes and directing traffic for him. Normally this was a huge no go, but he was too grateful to reprimand her.  
  


After double checking where they were in the antivirus process, Hank stood up and stretched. It seemed most deliveries were either on their way through the city or already assigned to officers when they were finished being prepped. A large set of memory sticks was almost ready to go to Jericho, and Hank’s name was written down to assist with the delivery. Because of course it was. He nodded gruffly, knowing he would have made the same call. Then he wandered over to Ashby’s desk. She was drinking a thirium bottle and taking stock of antivirus sticks, but she put her work on hold when she noticed Hank approaching.

“Good morning, Lieutenant,” she greeted with a smile.

“Yeah. Morning.” He rolled his shoulders. “Listen. Thanks for taking charge for me. I know I shouldn’t be encouraging you to jump several levels of clearance, but I really needed that nap.”

She nodded in understanding. “You had been awake for seventeen hours, most of which were high stress situations. Your heart rate was concerning for most of the day. Also, you hadn’t had anything to drink.

“Huh? What do you mean? I had coffee like two hours before I passed out, and I’m pretty sure there was some water forced on me sometime in there.” Hank motioned to the cold coffee on his desk. It obviously hadn’t helped.

Ashby smiled shyly. “I was referring to drinks of an… alcoholic nature, Lieutenant.”

Forehead knitting, Hank thought back to his last alcoholic drink. A lot had happened yesterday. He’d meant to grab a bottle with dinner or something, but then he’d barely had dinner because they’d realized Connor had the antivirus and –

“Well I’ll be damned,” he murmured. “Guess I’m not such a bad alcoholic anymore, huh? I didn’t even go into withdrawal.”

“You’re steps toward detox have certainly paid off,” she agreed. “I’m happy for you. It seems to be that you’re life is improving once again. Your son. Connor. Your health. It’s very exciting, and not just for me. Even officers who don’t know about Connor or Cole have started taking notice of your changes, Lieutenant Anderson. You’ll be a star again in no time.”

He let a little grin tug on his lips and tapped his knuckles on her desk. “Thanks.” He hesitated, wondered if he was going to cross a line here, then said, “Thank you, Olivia.”

The android perked up slightly, her name drawing her attention even more than before. Her eyes even seemed to light up with interest. It was the first time Hank had ever tried calling her by her first name – or really any officer by their first name in years. The smile on her face told Hank that she was not offended or uncomfortable about it, which was a huge relief.

“You’re welcome.” She paused, her LED briefly cycling yellow as she considered her options before returning to blue. “Hank.”

Hank gave her an approving nod and smile to assure her it was okay to call him by his name. Before they could say anything else, another officer came up with a cart of memory sticks. He was a middle aged, dark skinned man that Hank had only really seen in passing before. They worked in different precincts, but today the city was sending units from all over the city to help. His nametag read ‘M. Wilson’.

“Lieutenant Anderson. The boxes for Jericho are finished,” he said. “Whenever you’re ready, we can go.”

Quickly checking his watch, Hank nodded. It was nearly seven thirty, and he wanted to see his boys. With one last wave at Ashby, Hank began leading Officer Wilson to the parking lot. At first he debated taking his own car, but it wouldn’t be fair to Wilson to make him take a taxi back, so he let Wilson walk them to his patrol car instead. Anyway, Hank wasn’t planning to come back after the delivery.

\--- --- ---

It wasn’t Markus who met them at the desk. Instead, a young man with blonde hair and tired eyes greeted them. His name was Simon, and Hank vaguely remembered seeing him around last time. He’d brought two others with him to help with the boxes, and Wilson helped carry them back into some office as well.

“We appreciate all your help, Lieutenant,” Simon said to Hank while the boxes were stacked by a desk in what appeared to be a break room. What, were androids gonna grab an antivirus snack while they got thirium refreshers? “Things would have turned out differently if we’d attempted to discover the perpetrator ourselves.”

“Yeah, humans are the worst,” Hank grumbled in agreement. “I can just imagine what Reed woulda done if one of you tried to accuse him. I cracked him in the face, but if you had done it… Yeesh. Let’s just say the wrong fucking person would be behind bars.”

“Fair enough,” Simon said with a small smile. “Between the two of us, it’s better that he’s in jail. If he was allowed to walk free, I know a few androids who wouldn’t let that stand.”

“Yeah?” Hank smirked, imagining Reed getting sucker punched on the train by an angry android. Great image. Bad for android reputation. “Well if I have anything to say about it, he’s going away for a loooong time. Now we just gotta make sure all of you guys get the antivirus and do a huge debug of the city mainframes.”

“We’re already on it. You can take a breath,” Simon said. Hank knew he was right. He’d set up the majority of the teams. He’d seen the paperwork when he woke up. He knew everything was running smoothly. But somehow he still felt like there was so much to do. In front of him, Simon’s LED spun and he tilted his head. “I believe your son is headed this way. I’ll give you some space. We’ll be back momentarily to finish the check in process.”

He motioned to the other androids checking the boxes, and all at once they moved to exit the room. Even Wilson was encouraged to walk out, though he gave Hank a curious look before he did. Androids. Polite to a fault. At least most of the time.

A short minute after Simon and the others left, Cole came barreling into the room. He froze, panting, when he noticed someone else in the lounge. He was still wearing the outfit from yesterday, just like Hank, so it was almost as if no time had passed at all.

“Hey, kiddo. You run all the way down here? Where’s the fire?” Hank asked.

“Dad!” Cole screeched and took a running leap into Hank’s arms, which weren’t as prepared to catch a child as they once had been. He stumbled back but managed to keep a good grasp on his son for long enough to hug him before setting him down. “When did you get back?”

“Literally just walked in the door,” Hank assured. “You come down looking for food?”

“Yep! Snacks for me and Connor. He just woke up and he looks all normal again but Mr. Markus said he’d probably need one of those thirium drink things, so I volunteered to come get it.” He was so cute when he rambled. “You want anything?”

Hank stomach grumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten. “Yeah, sure. What kinda junk do they keep in an android government building?”

He nearly rolled his eyes when he saw the options. It was like Connor all over again. Healthier food options were held in refrigerated machines, and even the prepackaged stuff was on the low sugar, low carb, diet side of things. Cole snagged a few baked breakfast bars for himself and a thirium refresher bottle for Connor. Hank got himself one of those probiotic smoothies, figuring that was kind of a drink and a food at the same time. Plus, weren’t those probiotics good for pooping or something? Gut health? Whatever. He also got a water bottle for when he finished the smoothie.

Just before they walked out, Hank spotted a bottle of tea in the machine. It was green tea with lemon and lavender, and usually he wouldn’t give too shits about it except that he suddenly remembered Melissa drinking one every time she came home from the gym. “I can’t find it anywhere else,” she always complained. With a short sigh, he grabbed the bottle and followed Cole out.

He slipped the water bottle into the pocket of his jacket and chugged his probiotic smoothie – which he kind of hated, by the way. It was a fine consistency, but what was that flavor? Eugh! Cole was too busy talking to notice his dad’s disgusted face, but he did notice when the empty bottle went into the trash in front of the elevators.

“Wow, you drank the whole thing already? That’s amazing! I haven’t even eaten one of my bars, and I’m starving.” The elevator opened and they stepped in. “Anyway, like I was saying. Markus said that when I get a bit older, he’d be okay with me interning here if I needed a job for a resume or whatever. I’m not really sure what that means, but it sounded important and Markus seems really nice, plus Connor works here. So maybe I’ll do that when I’m in high school. What do you think?”

“Yeah, sounds great,” Hank said, though his mind was half on the remnant taste of his smoothie still stuck to his tongue.

Before Cole could keep talking, the doors opened on Connor’s floor. When the doors slid open, Cole bounded out, with Hank a step behind. Melissa and Connor were standing there, waiting for the elevator, and Cole gave an excited greeting. He quickly shoved the bright blue bottle of thirium refresher into Connor’s hands, not noticing the slightly tense atmosphere. Ah, kids

There was a moment of awkward silence before Hank gently tossed Melissa the tea bottle. She caught it easily before staring curiously down at the label. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise.

“Still your favorite, I assume,” Hank grunted. “And where were you two heading off for? I just got here.”

He knew he was kinda glowering at her, but honestly he was relieved. She’d actually stuck around. He’d fully expected her to be gone by the time he got back, especially when he woke up so late. When she’d left the first time, he’d taken it hard. If she’d left again without waiting for him, he honestly didn’t know if he’d ever have forgiven her. He was too old for that shit.

“I was taking Melissa to get something to eat,” Connor explained easily. He was smiling when Hank looked at him, and somehow that made everything better. “Long night?”

What a god damned understatement. It felt like he hadn’t seen Connor in a week, not twelve hours. The young android was up and walking around without a limp in sight. His skin was pale and perfect, not a dot of gray to be seen. He wasn’t attached to a charging port anymore. Jesus, even his eyes were smiling, and they were the same deep brown. It was Connor, as though the virus had never touched him. A fucking miracle.

“Too long,” Hank replied, and he was starting to grin under his shaggy beard. “But all the Repair Centers have the antivirus and we’ve got patrols out looking for anyone infected. The precinct systems had to be cleaned out too since Reed had sent the virus to more than just my terminal. It’s a whole fuckin’ mess, but we’ve got it covered.”

“That is great news.” Hank couldn’t say he’d ever seen Connor look so relaxed before. He was smiling easily. It was a nice look on the android.

Hank got distracted by the curl in Connor’s hair. Damn. He’d had the majority of his body and systems replaced but he still chose to have that stupid free-floating curl. Hank kind of loved it.

Beside Connor, Melissa cleared her throat. “I’m very happy for you, but I’m also hungry.” She turned to Connor. “Thanks for the offer, but I think I should just head home. I’ll grab a bite at the airport or something.”

“But –!“ Cole’s protest was drowned out by Hank’s indignant, “Now hang on a minute!”

“Seriously. I took off without thinking and I’ve got work to get back to. Bills don’t pay themselves, you know.” Melissa shrugged and shuffled into the elevator, but she didn’t escape. Cole hurried on with her, which of course drew Hank back in and Connor along with him. “Seriously….” Melissa sighed. No way was she getting away easy, Hank thought.

“You can’t leave without a goodbye hug,” Cole argued. “And a gentleman always walks his mom, or any lady, to the door.” God, whose kid was he? Because he sure as hell hadn’t learned to be that great of a gentleman from Hank in his first six years of life. Just because Hank hadn’t been an alcoholic didn’t mean he’d been opening doors and pulling out chairs for Melissa. It was great to watch Cole go through those motions though.

Melissa let out a click of happiness and bent over to hug her son. “Gosh, how did you turn out so wonderful? I’m gonna miss you like my own right arm.”

“As someone who has lost that particular body part, I can confirm that means she’ll miss you a lot,” Connor said and then grinned to prove he was teasing.

Hank busted out a grin while he snickered. Connor sure as hell was feeling better if he was cracking jokes like this. Part of Hank really hoped that became part of the norm, because he could use a few reasons to laugh in his day.

Cole laughed and Melissa almost laughed too but she forcibly held it in. She smiled though, and that was impressive enough. Maybe she and Connor had a heart-to-heart this morning or something, because the Melissa from last night wouldn’t have been amused at all. If they managed to get along, it would be better in the long run. Cole wouldn’t let them cut Melissa out of the picture, and Hank didn’t want to do that to her anyway – even if she had done as much to him. But if she and Connor didn’t like each other, it would make everything way more awkward.

They reached the bottom floor without much more conversation. Mainly Cole just kept holding onto his mother’s hand, then letting go to eat something, then holding on again. He was twelve, and some might say that meant he didn’t need to hold his mother’s hand anymore, but some would be wrong. After Melissa walked out of the building, Cole had no idea how long it would be before he saw his mom in person again. This was the hold of a young man who wanted as much contact with his mother as possible before he had to say goodbye. Hank could get that. He was gonna be touching Cole more than necessary for a crazy long amount of time until it really sank in that his son was real and wasn’t leaving him again.

The whole group filed out onto the bottom floor in a single-file line, with Hank and then Connor bringing up the rear. Part of Hank still worried Melissa was gonna try to make a run for it and drag Cole along by the hand he kept offering her. She seemed calmer now, more accepting of the conclusion they had come to, but Hank had thought she was content six years ago too. He comforted himself with the fact that Connor could undoubtedly outrun a woman dragging a twelve-year-old.

“Well, it was kinda nice seeing Detroit again,” Melissa mused. She turned halfway around as she walked so she could smile down at her son. “Maybe I’ll have to visit soo-ah!” She’d backed up into a black man standing in the lobby, making him drop a small box of memory sticks. It was Wilson. “Oh what the fuck,” she cried out, dropping down to help Wilson retrieve the sticks. He opened his mouth, his face confused, but she spoke over him. “No, not you! I just can’t believe I ran into someone. Jesus. You’d think I was some idiot teenager with her nose in her phone!”

Hank raised a curious eyebrow while Wilson laughed slightly and shook his head. “That’s all fine, Ma’am. Happens to the best of us.” He stood up with his box of memory sticks and then spotted Hank among the group. He went professionally straight-backed immediately. “Lieutenant. The folks here at Jericho accepted all the boxes except for this one. Said we ought to take them to some of the shelters downtown.”

Of course they did. Hank wondered if they’d somehow found a shelter Hank had overlooked. He rolled his shoulders. “Yeah. Sounds good. Think you can handle it without me?”

He really didn’t want to go back to work. He was so far into overtime from this case that Fowler was going to eat him alive. Officers were expected to go into overtime during major events, emergencies, or during long cases, but Hank’s time clock looked like he was trying to break a record. Ashby’s probably did too, now that he thought about it. That woman never left the station.

“Yeah, I –” Wilson trailed off, his dark eyes finding Connor. “Oh, hey. It’s you.”

Okay, that was weird. Hank looked between Connor and Wilson, but Connor seemed just as confused as Hank. His LED cycled yellow, so everyone could tell he was thinking hard despite his carefully neutral expression.

Wilson smiled. “Hey, I might not be an android, but I’d never forget your face.” He looked back at Hank’s confused expression. “Before the revolution, this guy saved my ass during a standoff. He was brought in to negotiate with some gang members, ‘cause back then nobody cared about… you know. Anyway, there was a shoot out, and I got hit. This guy diverted his mission to pull me out of harm’s way and give me a tourniquet. If not for him, I’d be dead.”  
  


Hank’s eyebrows rose in interest and he turned that expression on Connor. The android tried to seem nonchalant, but Hank wasn’t buying it. “It was the most logical option at the time. We didn’t lose a single officer that day, and we managed to bring down a major drug operation. It looked good on the record.”

“Maybe I should be surprised,” Hank said, shaking his head slightly. “But damn, I’d be a liar if I said I was. You sure do love to get right in the heart of matters, don’t you? Gotta get that adrenaline.”

“Maybe. But next time I’ll be more careful. Things were a little too intense this time around.” His eyes drifted to Cole for the briefest of moments before he turned a gentle expression on Hank again. God, Hank was so glad they’d discovered the cure in time. He would have missed out on all of these great new expressions.

He almost said “Damn right,” and then probably some other nonsense, but Melissa cut in with a clearing of her throat and all eyes returned to her.

She was holding up one last memory stick and offering an embarrassed smile. “Sorry again for bumping into you.” Officer Wilson took the stick slowly and smiled too.

“Hey, you know Lieutenant Anderson?” he asked.

“Oh. We haven’t seen each other in… you know, six years,” Melissa said, her embarrassment flooding her face. Well that was the fucking short version, wasn’t it? But Hank didn’t feel like airing his dirty laundry to some random cop from another precinct. He was already an embarrassment in his own building. No need to spread rumors elsewhere.

Officer Wilson nodded like he understood but then startled slightly. “Ah. I mean, sorry. I should introduce myself. I’m Marvin Wilson. I’m an officer with the DPD.” He shifted to hold the box in one arm and held out his other hand to shake.

“Uh, Melissa Hendricks,” she said, slowly accepting the shake. “I work… I’m a waitress at the moment. But I’m trying to start my own business – low-income fashion that looks like designer.”

Color Hank surprised. Since when did Melissa have an interest in discount fashion? Maybe it came from living off grid on a limited income. She didn’t look bad right now, but she’d looked better before she’d run away. Hiding from Hank had shifted her goals in life. He really shouldn’t be surprised.

Officer Wilson seemed very interested, leaning slightly toward Melissa as he asked about her plans. Hank really didn’t give a shit and instead looked down at Cole, who was munching happily on one of his breakfast bars. He wondered if this situation meant anything to Cole, or if he was just waiting to give his mom a goodbye.

“Officer Wilson,” Connor spoke up, breaking up the small talk the two had been going through. “Ms. Hendricks needs to catch a flight and has not had breakfast this morning. I know you’re busy with those memory sticks, but would you mind putting that mission on hold for a moment?” He motioned between the two. “I’m asking if you would mind driving her to the airport and finding something to eat on the way.

  
Officer Wilson stuttered a bit and looked to Hank for direction. The older man shrugged lazily. “If you don’t mind driving the lady to the airport, then it’s fine by me. Give the box here.” He had no idea what Connor was planning, but he was willing to bet it made total logical sense. Best to go with it.

“Only if Ms. Hendricks doesn’t mind,” Officer Wilson said, handing the box over as Hank beckoned for it. Officer Wilson looked to Melissa. “Would you like a ride to the airport?”

A flustered Melissa was something new, or rather it was old. Hank hadn’t seen her flustered since their dating days. Right now, she couldn’t seem to reset to her hardened angry mom state of being. “I- If you’re offering, then I guess I don’t mind. It’s cheaper than a taxi or the train.”

“That it is, ma’am.” Officer Wilson was smiling again. He offered Melissa his arm and after a moment she took it. “I’ll see you back at the station, Lieutenant.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Hank grumbled, shifting the box around.

Melissa turned halfway back and smiled down at her son. “I’ll call you when I get home, okay sweetheart?”

“Yes, Mom.” Cole waved one of his snack bars before continuing to munch.

Then Melissa glanced up at Hank. This was it. This was moment he’d been waiting for six years for. “Goodbye, Hank.”

“Goodbye, Melissa.” Hank tried to make his voice as even and gruff as he could, but he was pleased. He’d gotten his god damned goodbye this time.

They watched the two walk out of the building, arm in arm, chatting quietly. They looked pretty comfortable together, like Hank had introduced them at some company function before and not that they’d met literally five minutes ago. Only when the door had shut did Hank shift his box again and confront Connor.

“Alright, you gonna explain what just happened? I backed you up, but why’d you ask Wilson to drive her to the airport? You just want them gone that badly?” he asked, brow knit.

A smile tugged up on Connor’s lips and he shook his head. “Melissa and Officer Wilson were showing signs of attraction. I wanted to give them some alone time to explore their feelings of attachment.”

Cole made a gagging noise. “Ew, gross. Are they gonna make out?”

Hank laughed softly at his son’s reaction. “Knowing your mom? Probably not on the first date, but hey, it’s been a long time since we hung out. Maybe she will.” He smiled knowingly at Connor. “Think maybe she can find her soul mate here?”

“Statistically speaking, even unlikely events are possible, Hank.” Connor tipped his head. “I believe such a possibility would be beneficial for everyone involved.”

Shaking his head fondly, Hank sighed and said, “Can’t believe my soul mate sounds like such a nerd.” He raised his head, hand halfway through pushing his hair back, and pursed his lips. “Hey, speakin’ of which. Give me your hand.”

“My hand?” Connor asked, holding up his right hand on demand. His LED cycled briefly yellow before cycling blue several times. He probably knew what Hank was doing, but he didn’t help or stop the situation. He just held his hand out. Jesus, of course the pressure was all on Hank. But then, he’d been the one to ask.

Hank grabbed Connor’s hand by the wrist, holding it in place. With another sigh, Hank held his hand up in front of Connor’s. “God. Don’t know how long I’ve been thinking this would never happen for me.”

“No one dies without meeting their soul mate, Dad,” Cole chimed in, eyes eagerly fixed on the space between Connor’s hand and his dad’s.

“Yeah, yeah. I know,” Hank grumbled, but he didn’t move.

Two inches. Another two inches and they’d be pressing their hands together, attempting to match like billions of people before them. He remembered the couple he’d seen before he got the case, matching at sunrise in the park. Maybe he should have planned this better. Matching was like a proposal, sometimes, right? Maybe. Damn, standing in the Jericho lobby was not romantic or cool in the slightest. Fuck, he was messing this up. God and what if they were both wrong and they weren’t even actually soul mates? That would be fucking awkward and Hank might actually throw up. God, could he even do this?

“Hank,” Connor said, drawing Hank’s stressed eyes up from their hands.

“Yeah? What?”

The corner of Connor’s mouth twitched up and he looked fucking perfect. “Understand that even if the unlikely is true for us as well and we aren’t soul mates, it is not my intention to leave your side.” He tilted his head slightly. “I care about you a great deal. Didn’t you know?”

Oh. That felt strange and also good? Hank’s grip on Connor’s wrist loosened, and Connor pushed his hand forward. Their palms connected and Hank flinched in shock, but he couldn’t pull away. He didn’t _want_ to pull away. From the moment their skin touched, the most pleasant experience ever flooded his veins. In a way it was like walking through one of those little tunnel sprinkler things at a kid’s water park. He knew he wasn’t wet, but he could feel this new connection all over his skin, and it was as refreshing as a summer breeze over damp skin. Jesus fucking hell, that was nice.

  
His hand tingled and he watched with awe as an image tattooed itself over the wrinkles there. Like everyone else, it was akin to a Rorschach painting, but it was also noticeably a paw print. Of-fucking-course it was. Sumo was going to love it. You know, assuming he could even recognize a paw print. Hank wasn’t specifically a dog person, but Connor was and so was Cole and Hank really did like _his_ dog. Whatever. Fuck it. This was his soul mark and it was perfect just the way it was. It didn’t have to make perfect sense.

Pulling their hands apart, Hank turned his hand over again and again, examining the mark from different angles. “You know, somehow I’m not surprised.” Cole was bouncing in place, a beaming smile on his face.

“I like dogs,” Connor said as his agreement. It wasn’t particularly eloquent, but that made Hank like the response even more. It was one of the first things he’d ever consciously known about his soul mate. Before colors or sunrises or rain, he’d known his soul mate liked dogs.

“Yeah?” Hank raised a sarcastic eyebrow. “Well you know what I like?”

Tilting his head again, Connor lowered his own hand and said, “What?”

Without hesitating and letting himself doubt his actions, Hank leaned in and kissed Connor, his large hand coming up to cup Connor’s cheek and hold him in place. He’d never kissed an android, but that was alright. The lips were a bit harder than human ones, but Hank could get used to that. Only Connor wasn’t reacting to the kiss at all.

Doubt started creeping in. Hank was moving too fast. Or maybe Connor didn’t want that kind of relationship anyway. So many possibilities ran through his mind, and he pulled back from the kiss.

Just then Connor reached up to hold Hank close and pressed their lips together again. Oh thank fuck.

A wolf whistle broke them apart. It was followed by several cat calls and lewd cheering from above them. When Hank looked up, he saw the second floor terrace and several members of Jericho watching them. A red headed woman had started with the wolf whistle, but it was Markus Manfred himself and another dark skinned model doing the cheers and the cat calls. Simon was leaning on the rail, smiling knowingly down at the scene.

“Get it, 800!” Markus called down with a smirk.

“Work those sensors,” the other dark skinned model chimed in.

“Get a room!” the woman added on with annoyance in her tone, but she was grinning too wide to fool anyone.

Hank chuckled, and Connor was smiling. So even androids teased each other like that, huh? It was so innately human, even a little bit high school of them. God, it had been too god damn long since Hank had had a cheering squad for a relationship. It felt pretty great.

Beside them, Cole made a retching noise. “Come on, Dad!” he whined. “Warn me before you do something gross!”

“Kissing is gross?” Hank asked in mock surprise, as if Cole hadn’t said as much like five minutes ago.

“Kissing is soooo gross!” Cole exclaimed. Then he shrieked because Hank snatched him up off the ground and started sloppily kissing him all over his cheeks. He dropped his remaining breakfast bars in the scuffle, but they could pick those up later.

Cole giggled and fought back, and it was the most fatherly thing Hank had done in years. He missed this playful wrestling. He missed his son’s laughter. He just missed his son. But now he had Cole back in his life. For some reason, Melissa had backed down and agreed to leave him. Maybe Hank would understand if he were a mom and not a dad who’d been deprived of his kid for six years. Maybe, but it was impossible to know.

All he did know was that he was an early-fifties-year-old man who had finally, finally, _finally_ found his soul mate, who turned out to be this really smart, eternally young android, and that was fine. He’d gotten his son back, and now he could have fun lecturing all the people who were bound to think Hank was Cole’s grandfather. And, like, cherries on top – Hank was almost not an alcoholic, and he had an actual god damn real friend at work in Ashby. Could life get any better right now? He doubted it. For the first time in many years, he was truly, deeply happy.

\--- --- ---

[[Replay as Connor?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180215/chapters/57316276)

[[Continue as Connor?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180215/chapters/57375829)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more to go!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end. Thank you to everyone who read and double thank you to everyone who left me comments. Your hearts, your compliments, you tumblr messages - they all meant the world to me. Thank you. <3

Back in the beginning, before…. Before. Hank had been the pride of his station. He’d loved his job – catchin’ assholes and takin’ down drug rings and all that cool stuff. He was thirty-three and hot blooded. His friends and colleagues teased him about his missing soul mate, but it wasn’t uncommon to go a couple decades without finding them. That was fine. He met Melissa, and then a miracle – at forty-one, he fathered a son. Cole was his everything, and he was happy.

For six perfect years, Hank didn’t care about soul mates or whatever. He had his son, and that was match enough. Maybe Melissa felt jilted of that attention or jealous of that love. All Hank knew was that he came home from a sixteen hour shift and the house was empty. Her phone was on the counter. A suitcase of clothes for them each, and that was all they took.

He knew desperation and panic. He knew pity and he hated it. And he spent the next six years too angry, too depressed, too lost to care about anyone the way a soul mate deserved. Worst of all, he blamed himself. He’d been such a fuck up that he’d lost the one thing he loved more than anything else in the world. What kind of soul mate would even want him anymore – fifty-three and washed up?

It was a damn miracle he’d even given Connor a second glance or tested out his theory. Maybe it was the god damn universe or some shit, because no one had gotten Hank to care about a case in years, yet he became invested for Connor. And it turned out to be the best decision he could have made. The world was a crazy place.

A week after the antivirus had been distributed, Hank was just finishing up paperwork on a much easier case he’d been assigned. His eyes kept glancing to the clock, because any minute he was free to go home. Any minute, Cole and Connor would arrive to pick him up. But more than that, they were about to stun the shit out of Jeffrey and it had been a long time since Hank had had the pleasure of teasing his friend. Hank had already told Jeffrey about Cole and even brought Cole in to see the captain to prove he wasn’t losing his mind. But today they were going to surprise Jeffrey with Connor.

A slight commotion rippled across the bullpen, and all heads turned to watch a man coming out of the captain’s office. Rolling his eyes, Hank turned to look too. It was the all powerful god of androids – Elijah Fucking Kamski. Hank already didn’t like the guy, but Connor had admitted that Kamski was his old ‘therapist’ and now Hank just full on hated that bastard. Everyone else, however, was fawning. As far as most people knew, Kamski had handed over the antivirus willingly and been an eager help to the investigation. What a load of horseshit.

As Kamski passed by his desk, he gave Hank a scowl and it was a miracle Hank didn’t jump up and punch him in his cocky mouth. Earlier, the precinct had fawned over him when he’d first arrived too, so it had taken some clever diversionary tactics to get a moment alone with the man. But Hank had a question he needed to ask before he let Kamski get away, so he managed to corner the billionaire before he’d gone to see the captain.

“Why’d you single out Connor? Why give the antivirus to him of all people?” Hank had asked.

Kamski had frowned, like it was pitiful Hank didn’t understand. “The RK800 is not just any android, Lieutenant. It is the last android I designed, meant to be the world’s most advanced prototype. He is in a class of his own. RK androids cannot be compared to other androids. Connor needed to be reminded that he is special to me and that he needs me as much as I require him.”

“You know you sound like a jackass when you talk like that, right?” Hank had said, raising his eyebrow in disbelief.

Kamski was unbothered. He smiled and sighed. “Oh, Lieutenant. Just enjoy him while you can, because eventually he will remember who his creator is.”

“Abusive parents don’t get to dictate what their kids do after they move out, Mr. Kamski.” He crossed his arms and let himself revel in the frown Kamski sent him for his trouble. “And for the record, Connor doesn’t need anybody. The only reason you got to feel important is because you let your brother release a deadly virus so you could play god. Don’t let that fool you into thinking you are one. That’s a slippery slope.”

“I think we’re done here, Lieutenant,” Kamski said with a disapproving scowl. “Don’t get too comfortable. The next time I see Connor may very well be the day he realizes who he really belongs with.”

“Yeah? I’ll take my chances,” Hank said and had watched Kamski head into Fowler’s office.

So yeah, the mutually disapproving looks they were giving each other now were totally understandable. Hank wasn’t about to just roll over and let Kamski mind-control Connor into some sort of parasitic relationship. Fuck that.

Once that douche-canoe was out of the building, Hank let his mind wander to more pleasant thoughts. Teasing Jeffrey. God, he couldn’t wait. Fowler had no idea Connor was coming in on a professional matter. They were going to trick him into thinking it was purely to pick up Hank and then, after Hank set up the conversation right, they’d have the big reveal and Fowler would be stunned stupid.

Just then, Cole came strolling into the bull pen. Alone. Odd.

“Hey, Cole.” Hank got up from his desk and met his son in the middle of the walkway. “Where’s Connor?”

Cole shrugged and reached into his pocket to pause the music playing on his phone. “Some guy wanted to talk to him outside. He looked really important and kinda familiar, and Connor told me to give them a minute. So I did.”

Really important? Well shit. Of course Kamski fucking ran into Connor on his way out. Of course. He took a deep breath. He’d just told Kamski that Connor didn’t need anybody, and Connor could handle himself. Hank didn’t need to worry. It wasn’t like Kamski could just flip a switch and have Connor at his beck and call. Probably. Right? Damn. Maybe Hank needed to learn to code.

“Heeeeeey, if it isn’t my favorite little man!” Captain Fowler was descending the steps outside his office. When his feet hit the bottom floor, he opened his arms and Cole hurried over to give him a hug. “Didn’t know I’d be seeing you today.”

If anyone was as relieved and excited to see Cole back in Detroit as Hank was, it would be Jeffrey Fowler. He’d been beside himself when Hank told him the news, and he about fainted when Cole came into the office for the first time. He didn’t ask specifics about how it happened. He knew better than that. But Cole eased his mind anyway by telling him that Melissa had come to Detroit and given him permission to stay. He even called her on a video chat to prove it. It was a slightly awkward call where Jeffrey and Melissa had to make nice even though they’d barely been friends before she left. The end point was that Jeffrey had nothing to worry about concerning the legality of Cole staying with Hank, so he just got to enjoy seeing Cole whenever the kid came to the station.

“Come to grab your dad?” he asked when they were done hugging.

“Yes sir, Captain Fowler, sir!” Cole said, mock salute and all. “We’re all gonna go out to dinner tonight.”

“All?” Jeffrey asked, raising a curious eyebrow at Hank. Damn, he didn’t need to sound so skeptical. “We bringing that new soul mate of yours?”

Hank tried to look gruff while Cole answered with an excited, “Yup! Connor can’t eat, of course, but he promised not to tell Dad the negative parts of his food tonight.”

Jeffrey laughed and Hank grumbled. “Hey, he said I’ve been doing a lot better. Get off my back.”

“No arguments there, Hank. But so when do I get to meet this guy?” He took a glance around the station, as though Connor would appear and wave at him. “Honestly can’t believe you’ve had a god damned soul mate for a week and haven’t bothered to introduce me properly. Thought we were friends.”

More friends now that Cole was back. Sure they’d been close before Hank’s spiral, but Hank had put an end to that by… well by going into a spiral. Even Jeffrey could barely stand the sight of him in his self-destructive state. With Cole back and Connor still working to fix Hank’s diet and whatever, Hank was feeling like way less of an asshole, and so his relationship with Jeffrey had already improved drastically.

Before Hank could answer, though, Cole beamed at someone behind Hank and reached out to grab their hand. Of course it was Connor. Hank rolled his eyes but really he felt fond of the gesture. Cole was always trying to grab Connor’s arm or sit between Connor and Hank on couches or really just get between the two of them as often as possible. Hank was a little jealous, but he knew they were in a settling period. Eventually Cole wouldn’t feel threatened by the two of them not paying attention to him. They would be allowed to have alone time eventually, so for now he didn’t put up a fuss about Cole’s clinging.

Jeffrey’s smile disappeared as he put on his ‘tough captain’ face. Hank almost laughed. “Hey, you must be the android I’ve been hearing so much about. Hank’s soul mate after all this time, right?” the captain said in greeting, trying not to show he was happy to meet Connor, but Hank knew better.

“Yep, that’s him,” Hank answered for Connor. Alright. Time to tease the captain. “Now Jeffrey, before I leave, I gotta go back to what I was sayin’ last night. The case yesterday was an absolute shitstorm, and I’m tellin’ you, we need to hire a new negotiator. A fuckin’ good one this time.”

In the corner of his vision, he noticed Connor start to smile a little. Damn, they’d talked about this. He better not jump the gun and ruin the joke. Comedic timing was important.

“Lay off, Hank,” Fowler grumbled. “I already told you, we’re getting a replacement.” He rubbed at his right temple, an old habit. “Supposed to be some hotshot android who used to work for S.W.A.T. or some bullshit.”

Bouncing slightly, Cole opened his mouth to speak, but Hank silenced him. “Oh, you don’t say?”

Honestly Cole would probably ruin the timing more than Connor. They hadn’t let Cole know the joke, but Cole did know a lot about Connor’s history and his old jobs, so of course he was piecing things together. Smart kid.

Captain Fowler grumbled and tried to ignore Hank in favor of Connor. “Look, we haven’t formally been introduced. I’m Captain Jeffrey Fowler of the DPD. Hank’s boss. He ever gives you a problem, you let me know.” He put his hand out to shake.

Hank pursed his lips in pretend indignation. This was it. The perfect set up. Connor smiled. “I understand.” He slipped his hand into the captain’s. “My name is Connor Arkay. I’m the new negotiator sent by Jericho.”

Jeffrey’s hand went a bit rigid and his expression became tense. Confusion was evident in every muscle of his face. The reality of the situation was slowly hitting him. He honestly looked like someone had pulled the tiles out from under his feet. It only took a second for Hank to lose his false persona. He started laughing, hard, and bent over to slap his own knee.

“God, Jeffrey, don’t look so damn scared! He’s an android, not a bear!” He guffawed.

“Shut your damn mouth, Anderson,” the captain snapped, releasing Connor’s hand. He looked Connor over from head to toe, like somehow Connor was hiding a different physique under his lithe chassis. “Ex-S.W.A.T. negotiator?”

Nodding, Connor folded his hands behind his back like a little soldier and said, “I worked with several teams, but my final command before the revolution was Captain Allen. I look forward to working under _your_ command now.”

Somehow Connor was not showing how amusing he thought this was. Hank couldn’t control himself that well. He was only human, after all.

Captain Fowler harrumphed. “I don’t like being teased at work,” he said, shooting Hank a look as the lieutenant finally got a hold on his laughter. “But you look more professional than this asshole, so I guess… Welcome aboard. Can’t say we’ll be as exciting as the S.W.A.T. teams, but we get our fair share of crazy situations. Hope it won’t be too boring for you.”

“I’m very excited to begin working here,” Connor assured, but his enthusiasm just made the captain roll his eyes and sigh.

Jeffrey was probably thinking the same thing Hank had when he’d first learned about Connor’s interest in police work – that he was a hot headed newbie who’d soon tire of the chase. Now that Hank knew Connor, he wasn’t sure that was true. Connor would probably enjoy the adrenaline of chasing criminals for a long, long, long, long time.

The captain shot Hank one last exasperated look. From energetically enthusiastic to too tired to care – that was Jeffrey Fowler these days. Hank just smirked back at him. The captain ruffled Cole’s hair and then turned and retreated to his office. It appeared he’d had enough social interaction for one day. Connor sent a pleased look over to Hank, which just made all of Hank’s insides happy. God damn, he hadn’t thought he still had it in him to feel this good.

“Hey,” Hank said, stepping up until there was barely space between them. “How about we go home now? I’ve had my fun here.”

“Sure, Hank.” Connor pressed a quick kiss to Hank’s cheek because he clearly wanted to give Hank a heart attack. “But first, I’d like to meet your team. I believe they’re watching us intently.”

“Huh?” Hank glanced toward his desk. At their own desks, Officer Olivia Ashby and Detective Tina Chen quickly looked away, but Hank noticed and chuckled softly. Connor made a good point. The ladies had met Cole, but no one had met Connor yet. If nothing else, Ashby deserved to meet Hank’s soul mate. “Alright, alright. Let’s go make you some friends. Come on, Cole.”

Hank slipped his hand into Connor’s, the one with his soul mark on the back, and began leading him toward the women. On his other side, Cole quickly took his free hand. They were a little family in progress, walking together to make introductions and small talk, and it was all so damn domestic.

Back before all this shit, Hank had dreamt of a family and his soul mate, just like any normal person. For a good, long time, he’d lost sight of those dreams, yet they’d somehow come back to him. Now he was here with his soul mate in one hand and his son in the other, and he almost couldn’t believe his luck.

As they got close to the women, Ashby began to smile – the one that meant she was both happy for and proud of Hank. Maybe he deserved a look like that. Maybe he didn’t. He just knew that for the first time in years, he felt full. He felt satisfied. He felt good.

\--- --- ---

[[Replay as Connor?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180215/chapters/57375829)

[[Replay as Connor from the Beginning?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180215/chapters/55484803)

**Author's Note:**

> Absolutely feel free to translate this work so long as you comment with a link so I can add it here. Also give credit, of course.


End file.
